Kindred Spirits: Lunatic
by DenimPants
Summary: When mass werewolf abductions attract vampire hunters from the other side of the country, Aiden gets a lot more than he asked for. Responsible for organizing the itenary for the fearsome Mr. Snow, can Aiden protect Josh and Sally while still satisfying Mother's requirements; and more importantly, is Mitchell going to help when George's life hangs in the balance? US UK crossover.
1. I am Our You

**Chapter 1: I am Our You**

Aiden held his hand to the doorbell. He wasn't even sure that ringing the doorbell was a good idea. The button was green, caked over with moss and had a strange black scratch.

He discovered later that the black scratch didn't transfer to his finger, but that didn't ease his oogy-factor.

Imagine that: being close to two hundred years old and a blood sucking murderer, he would have thought that goo wouldn't make him squeamish. But even before his afterlife, putting his finger on slimy soft mush always made him shudder. Then again, it wasn't just the slimy doorbell that made his heightened senses stand on edge.

If the Mother of all vampires tells you she wants you to meet with the chosen representative of the Old Ones branched in Briton, you better get nervous. The grotesque legacy of the Old Ones in the European brood far outweighed any combined story of the Dutchmen in the Americas. Of course, they had a longer history to give them that edge, but even with the sinister planning and preparing the Dutch did, brutality among humans was rarely one of them.

Vampiric massacres stained the history of the Britain since as early as the 7th century. And though society had grown some, the Old Ones of Europe didn't seem to enjoy changing pace.

'_Old dogs_.' Aiden muttered, wiping his fingers on the seat of his tight blue jeans.

It took the occupant of the run down South End home a good five minutes to answer the door. And when he did, he pulled the door only as far as the chain allowed and just glared at him with bloodshot red eyes. "Yeah?"

Not quite what the vampire had expected. He nodded trying to process it before tightening his jaw and his fist. He forced himself a taut smile and leaned forward as if what he had to say was a secret. It may have been, but all he managed to say was, "John Mitchell?"

"Yeah," he repeated measuring the nurse with his darkened eyes.

"I'm Aiden Waite. Mother sent me."

"Already figured that much," he replied, his voice thick with some kind of darkness. Aiden couldn't decided if that darkness was disgust, superiority or suspicion._ Some combination of all three, perhaps._ Somewhat even more unsettled by the rudeness and less by the circumstance, Aiden let a bit of smugness creep into his defenses.

John was quite a young man when he turned- he was a greasy representation of his family and obviously hadn't fed in a few hours, maybe a few days. Still, this did not seem to change the predicament much. He was once the vampire king of Bristol. Aiden didn't know how that worked there, but here, king was a title difficult to get and much more difficult to survive. the King of the North Tip was constantly at territory disputes with the King of New York. Rightfully so, sine he took all of the land from Maine to Connecticut from the New York king's sister through sabotage and ash.

"May I come in?" he squeezed as bitterly polite as he could make it.

Finding no obvious fault in him, John Mitchell shrugged then snarked, "I don't own the joint, you don't need my concent. And anyway, you're not gonna burn if you stay out there."

As the door to the chalet closed, Aiden tried not to let himself roll his eyes. The quip about the popular fiction that vampires were completely intolerable to sunlight helped vampires try and live modern lives, but it was a tiresome and tasteless joke. The chain to the door unhitched and the British vampire let the door swing open. Aiden gathered his features so as not to show his disrespect.

King of a City meeting with the Messenger of Mother- Exiled messenger no less. Somehow Aiden felt that he was being punished…. again.

The American followed the visitor into the dark house. It was likely built in the 16th century and likely hadn't been maintained since. The rundown corner of South End stood distinct from the rest of the upscale city. Considering it was a corner of vampire homes, it wouldn't be a surprise that the area was protected from land ordinances or safety requirements set up by any human government.

Pity; the place could be beautiful of they had only put some care into it.

The moment the vampire stepped into the home, he had to stifle a gag. It was some strange urge to fight, throw up or (by odd quirk of circumstance) watch a video with his room mate. Werewolf permeated the room, the whole house, and though the whole estate had been seared down with Clorox, Aiden's sense couldn't help but cry out wolf.

"Blood?" John asked as he wandered into the kitchen. Aiden followed half nervous of what he should find, and was slightly relieved when the first thing he noticed was a young woman of about twenty playing x-box on the kitchen CRT-TV. There was a rope on her ankle, but it was tied on by a knot and she didn't seem bothered by it.

_More for show, maybe_.

She looked at him, dark circles pooled around her blue-grayed eyes and they seemed a bit shot from lack of sleep. For a moment he saw fear there; but Aiden shook his head. He was really turned off by teens. Almost always perpetually hungry, the thought of eating a kid made him queasy. Especially now a days that he had the ability to be picky.

Relieved she went back to playing whatever videogame they had set up for her. She wasn't very affected by the visitor. Aiden assumed he had some other tastes as well, maybe the Family should have found him a young boy instead. The passing thought made his guts swim.

Aiden chuckled then tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling off. Modern world with modernized possessions, antique man with antiquated manners. Some things he knew he should change, but still had some moral trouble doing so.

Murder, fine—but gay sex, gross.

"Coffee or tea then?" the other vampire asked, he sighed a bit.

"Yeah, sure. Do you have black coffee?"

"I only have the instant kind."

"That's fine," Aiden observed the apartment for signs of wolf fights, or blood bars, or any other tale sign of its vampric ownership. But besides the smell and the man before him with no heartbeat, everything seemed like a typical American household with a suitcase of clothes in the living room, and a box of day-stale pizza.

"Guests?" Aiden asked, taking the warm mug from the British counterpart. When John gave the other vampire a quizzical look, the nurse indicated toward the half eaten pepperoni pizza.

"My room mate came over for the night. He's not one of us." Then he looked a bit shocked, as if he hadn't meant to say it so easily. Aiden just made a face that could have mean, 'okay', 'sure', 'not judging-but kind of'. Then just chuckled.

"Mine neither." Though he could have imagined it would be difficult to live with a human room mate. Especially since the fresh supply of blood would be walking around the house constantly. "Movie night last night."

John just nodded cautiously, before adding, "yeah, you know… chilling with the bro's all night. Watching the tube."

"Drinking a beer…" last night was a full moon, his evening taking care of Josh was anything but kicking back with the home-boys. Though with the recent re-covering of his slightly premature burial, the ghouls have been quiet. Watching his vampire's-best-friend, aka the 'wolf, was relatively event less. Even Josh's dark side seemed somewhat satiated.

It had been the first month in the year that Nora was going to be away during the moon, and Aiden had been worried about it. And with the underground Cage looking for new meat, the vampire and his uncanny roommates all decided that ripping up the cellar of their already run down house would be better than trying to prevent a rampant werewolf from getting collected by the undead willing to fight them. Seemed there needn't be any other worry. Of course, an indoor transformation at night that meant major munchies in the morning. Aiden had a pack of cold B+ while he watched his room mate devour two large subways and a party-sized bag of cheetos before their 8am shift.

"So, John," Aiden rested his shoulders and lowered the cup. "How should we start?"

"Can address me as Mitchell," he added, as if there were some sudden measure of causality in the conversation, "Hardly anyone calls me John."

"Whatever." Aiden thought the request strange, but not so strange that he wouldn't go along with it. "Mitchell could be a first name."

"The Council?"

"Right." _Now he decides to be business_, "You are of Mother's older, family."

"Sort of. I haven't been with the Old Ones for very long." And Aiden got the impression he didn't ever intend to be. "I don't know much about the etiquette when it comes to the dealings."

"Ah." _That explained_. "Well, I've been out of the family for the past decade, exiled for all of a week, and then grounded for the summer. So you don't have to worry about the Old way's etiquette with me."

For some reason, this perked the other vampire up. "Really, why?"

"Long story." And Aiden let the rest emphasize on the 'long'. "Preparations have been made for Mr Snow's visit. Mother has already settled the agenda once your Viceroy accepts." Aiden tried to pay close attention to the reactions Mitchell made, but he showed surprisingly little interest in the business. "Snow hasn't been to the Americas since Columbus, I hear. I hope he will be pleased with it."

"He seems to think that he will not enjoy America." The man replied, "I don't know what's worse though, having heard the reputation of Mother. Already well past two thousand years old, and she has more strength and power than any of the young ones, and none of their weaknesses."

He meant the invitations, the guilt, the seeming magic that comes with vampire age. Despite Snow's history reaching as far back as a thousand years before Christ, he was scorned in quite underground circles for his handicaps. He was an old dark man in a bright new world.

"She can Flatter a man to forget how to breathe without even saying anything. "

"Flatter?" Aiden repeated not familiar with the term.

"Like that hypnosis that the old ones can do. You do know it."

"We don't actually have a term for it," he admitted, he looked at him, "You can't?"

"Can you?"

"Yes." The awkward nature of the question just made for an awkward answer. And it was then, Aiden realized that he was, in fact, older than his British counterpart. Then again, his skills had been honed during his decades as the right hand manservant of the Daughter. Almost as ancient as her mother. Even though he was barely older than 200 year of age, he did have some skills rivaling those almost a thousand. He did not say so though.

John Mitchell had a reputation among the community, even in America- though Aiden had to say it didn't do much justice to his greasy suspicious tendencies. He wasn't very intimidating, coffee over small girls, the inability to hypnotize victims. Aiden started to wonder who was really being punished in this arrangement.

They finished the discussion about the Snow's visit; beat out details, and then tried to bid hasty dealings and going-ons before finally Aiden found a topic they could relate to.

Surprisingly enough, work.

"You really work as a hospital orderly?" Aiden asked, his only half touched cup of coffee now cold and unpleasant.

"It was an easy plant for a while, I suppose the access to blood was the perk of the job. As I guess you must know."

"Our hospital had been run by the Boston family but there was an accident with the head of the surgeons office and there was a mass Cleanup on the upper ranks. We've been loosing our privileges there." Aiden put the coffee in the sink then brushed his hands, "But it's about time for a change. The hospital had been blood central for the inner circle for almost 30 years. Time to shift suspicion."

"So you and your room mate work at the same hospital."

"Yeah," he picked his fang then just shrugged, "He's an orderly too." Then a funny thought occurred to him, "You wouldn't by any chance know if this house was used as a –" 'wolf cage' was what he wanted to ask. But a small surprised squeak started behind him and he spun around just in time to see the dust of a ghost spread quickly into thin air.

Mitchell too looked a bit shocked, and the mood instantly changed, "Well! Glad that this went through painlessly. It was a great pleasure to have met you. Thanks for the short story. I really have to be going. Stop again for tea another time maybe?"

And Aiden suddenly was ushered out of the door. "Uh. Right." And it slammed behind him before he hand the chance to say: "Good bye."

He took a half step down the porch then thought about it. Suspicious, no less, he'd thought maybe some ghost would feel the urge to stay and chat? Suspicious much? Ghosts had no reason to fear vampires.

Curiosity got the better of him and he crept to the kitchen window and peeked. As suspected, the specter had returned—She was a tall strip of a thing, wide eyed and with frizzy brown hair that exploded around her face like a fuzzy mane. She had died in slat gray shirt, loose and comfortable. Barefooted, like Sally. She was screaming and Mitchell was trying to calm her down. If not calm her down, at least understand what she was trying to say.

Aiden watched as the ghost threw her hands to her face with balled fists, and the vampire gripping them—comforting her. Before finally saying something that she agrees to. His hands slip through her and she disappears. Visibly upset, Mitchell grabs the leather jacket that was draped on the kitchen chair and dashes out the front door of the house.

As he does, Aiden's view followed him only to land on the bright eyes of the little human girl. Her game was still on, her hands were still on the controller, but she started at him unspeaking – she knew he had seen the whole episode.

Aiden quickly went off to pick up his roommate from his double shift at the hospital.

* * *

AN: So I am a viewer of the American show. I have watched about a season of the UK version, however I am not so well acquainted with those characters so if I get their personalities subtly wrong… so sorry. Feel free to call me out on it.

I've never understood why no one has thought to cross the two groups over. They are different characters with slightly different backgrounds. I find that this crossover would not only be pretty neat in the fiction's fiction realm- but also in actual cannon.

The dates for the story to occur has been fudged a bit, slightly, from the airdates. I didn't realize everyone die-died in the UK version until after I started writing. So imagine that this story is some offshoot that happens somewhere at the end of US season 2, and the end of UK series 2 (or the early episodes of series 3). Obviously, with Aiden getting buried, there is some AU. Apologies again… I did take a few liberties. Otherwise, I'll try to keep it as close to cannon as possible.


	2. Morning after

**Chapter 2: Morning after.**

Josh had post transformation jitters. Since Nora was off to the Canton Reserve in New Mexico to monitor her pregnancy, the boy was heartsick and a bit horny. With the Cage on the hunt for new 'wolves, Aiden and he both agreed to transforming the basement to a cage for the month.

Fortunately, the werewolf was also a bit heartsick (and as far as he knew, not horny) and spent the evening being docile while gnawing on a steel pipe. It didn't even eat the half of rump roast that he'd prepared the weekend before—which now lead him to wonder what he was going to do with a raw, two day old slab of meat.

_'Throw it out, most likely'_, it wouldn't last till the next moon, and despite being a feral animal in the night, Josh really squirmed at the idea of eating slightly rotted meat.

After Aiden takes him home tonight, he resolved to toss out the rump.

Their short silver Camry pulled up in front of the emergency ward of Suffolk County Hospital and Josh leaped to his feet (nearly blacked out) and grabbed his bag leaping into the passenger side.

"Dizzy?"

"You know how it is, day after the 'wolf, going back to…" Josh then realized that Aiden was smirking. He said the same thing to him every time he picked him up the morning after. "Just drive home."

"Yeah, like, now."

Josh made a sound of surprise when Sally's head appeared through his window. She was standing outside, in her slippers, peering over the edge of the car- which may have looked somewhat normal if the window wasn't still closed.

"Really Josh? A scream? Shouldn't you, like, expect me everywhere by now?"

"I didn't scream," Josh whined, he choked a bit trying to adjust his octave, "I cried out in surprise."

"Yes… in a very high pitch."

The dirty blonde just rolled his eyes, then tried to shoo her grin out of his face. "What do you want and can't wait the twenty minutes to come home?"

"Oh. Okay, twenty minutes." And then she materialized out of view.

"With traffic it could be half an hour," Aiden said sympathetically, as Josh appeared to be picking ghost particles out of his hair.

"Just drive already. I've had a long day."

Josh wasn't kidding. With the hospital down-sizing. He was fighting tooth and claw with older orderlies and younger nurses convinced that the next text they received demonstrated a matter of life or death.

Senses and strength already dulled after the culmination of the month, Josh just wanted a quiet day of wiping tile floors, changing bed pans and eating alone in the corner.

"New vamp in the blood section." Josh tried to say it as if it were a new temp at the counter. "He's watching me, I know it. You and this arrangement just seems to mean more bloodsuckers at our work place."

"They're only there till Mother moves Balraj to St. Grace. Then things will be quite at Suffolk."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you want to get rid of vampires in a hospital you are abandoning. Not **add **to them?" Josh decided to leave out the part where the lunch interns had decided to bite the backs of his legs. Must be some new vampire dare—and he snarled at them reminding them that werewolf blood was poisonous to vampires.

They said juvenile things about how wet dogs smell then were called aside by Dr. Suresh. Who, after three years of working under him, Josh was still astounded that he was the high ranking vampire at the hospital.

Suresh appeared like a middle aged Indian doctor with an oddly impeccable British accent. Well actually he was just that, just very few people passing him would know he was in fact over a 500 year old Hindu vampire. Not that his religion had anything to do with how old he was.

Of all the monsters he had met, Josh had the least skepticism about Salarjung Balraj 'Suresh' Praveen. He just seemed so… well, wise. And his discovery of his boss's history only enforced the werewolf's opinion.

Dr. Suresh was Bishop's counterpart (and Aiden's mentor in self control) at the hospital. After the police officer got staked and ashed by their very own ghost roomie, Suresh took over watching the orphans in the cleanup. The task had been allotted to Aiden, and as direct result of his actions, they were all destroyed. Except the orphans under Suresh's aid – Mother allowed those half dozen-ish to live.

"Come on Josh, every transition requires subtle changes. Nothing happens overnight." Aiden appeared to have thought of Josh's condition then decided to not elaborate. Josh realized his room mate hoped he didn't notice the change in expression on his face. But Josh also knew by now being OCD meant he noticed everything and nobody liked hearing him complain about the little details.

"Oh, and when are the cages going to get full, already? A wolf last month, two the month before, another one last night. I swear, if another twenty-year-old blood-sucker is going to tell me about how he'll see me in the arena again, I will bite someone's head off."

"Another one last night?" this was news to Aiden, who had spent most of the morning at the hotel planning for the meetings that were to occur between Mother and Snow before his trips. The entertainment was to be arranged entirely by Olfaq, one of Mother's more capable menservants. "Could be a ring fight."

"Boxing right?"

"Well…" Aiden spared his roommate the details. Though neither doubted it was a cage match to the death. Josh barely survived his first experience in the Cage last year—he didn't like talking about it, even though he was among the fortunate many who didn't remember any part of his transformation. "If it's a big one, which it sounds like it might be, they'll need at least ten."

"TEN?" Josh tried not to jump out of his seat. He sat there looking a bit sick. "Geeze. Can you imagine catching ten werewolves just for a cage fight?"

"They might just infect ten people."

Josh gave the vampire a very dirty look then Aiden clamped his mouth shut. But it lead cause to wonder: _why were they catching wild wolves at risk of their own safety when using caged wolves may work just as well._

They did that in the First World War; tie the refugees to poles just out of the reach of the wolves' long claws. Sure there was the risk that they would actually die instead of turn… but at that time, they weren't very concerned about keeping a low profile at the time.

"You guys are sick."

Aiden figured he meant 'Vampires as a whole' and that he himself was exempt of the accusation, but he couldn't help but feel a bit insulted at the stereotype.

"British werewolf in Boston."

"What?"

"One of the Orphans said it," Josh started, "They thought it was funny, I guess. They had said something about an agreement, and he broke it. Was out in the woods last night and they hooked him. Imagine Aiden, **my** woods. That could have been me."

"Except we'd get you out."

"Like you did last time?" he glared. This was obviously still a sore part.

Though Josh was only half irritated. If it weren't for Aiden in the first place, he might have been happy just being a cage pet under ground for a week in a month. And it wasn't as if Aiden didn't try… or feel guilty about it.

And it wasn't as if he didn't kill the old dog.

"It's different now."

"Yeah Yeah." He pouted. "But I'm not sure how good this house arrangement is. I mean, sure there are the bars, and Sally can hold me inside the house at least. But every month? Maybe next month I'll go to the reserve with Nora."

"Ma'ma already said that those who can't remember aren't invited."

"I can fake it can't I? How hard can it be? 'Oh I do remember, I ran around and sniffed bushes, dug up a dead deer and then nibbled around the horns for a little while.'…" Josh trailed off when he realized his own fabrication was making him want to vomit. "Anyway… I think the 'wolf gets separation anxiety."

"You can clean up your own used tissues," Aiden quipped as he pulled to the curb in front of the Haunt.

"I don't have any dirty used tissues…" Josh started, and when he saw the vampire smirking, his head switched to the implication and he just said "Gross. And not very mature for someone your age."

"What, You don't think that kind of thing gets old when you've lived a few centuries do you?"

"GROSS!" repeated the werewolf, "And, I so did not need to know!"

Aiden locked the car door then started making jerking motions in the general direction of the werewolf. And Josh started flapping his hands in front of his face trying to physically dismember the mental image of an undead man jerking off.

"You are evil."

The door to the house swung open and Sally waved them in. She looked excited. Her grin as wide as her face. They shuffled in quickly, partially so that the neighbors didn't think too hard about the door seemingly opening by it's self and then called another exorcism. As the last one didn't go over so well.

* * *

AN: I know, short chapter. That's only because the next one is kind of long.


	3. the Hunters Have Tea

**Chapter 3: the Hunters Have Tea**

"We're home!"

"Not alone!" Sally signalled the house guest. He was a tall gentleman, noble in the face and wiry most everywhere else. Then there was a young girl, who must have been almost twelve looking through Aiden's music collection. Then the old woman who sat with her hand in the other guest's lap.

There was no doubt, the two women were of werewolf blood, but they couldn't figure out what the man was.

"Oh you're right!" the lady exclaimed, she sprung up and it took all of Aiden's and Josh's self-control to appear they didn't expect her to fall. Despite her age, she had a sprightly step and a very firm handshake. "They are such handsome creatures."

The man scowled a bit, and the noise he made sounded like it could have come from a dog. But he didn't say anything other than that. Aiden thought he could hear a rumbling in his throat.

"HI! It's so nice to see you!" Josh started, his smile wide but his eyes furrowed, "who are you... exactly?"

"Ah we were just telling your beautiful lady friend about the mix up." The old lady took a step back and indicated first to the tall man, "I'm Elda. This is Thom. And this is Hope."

"They're from the reserve." Sally obviously couldn't hold her excitement. She jerked like a live wire. "They have news from Nora."

"WHAT! Wait, why didn't you tell us this earlier!"

"You asked if it could wait twenty minutes. You're late by the way." She jumped over the seat and onto the couch, "Quick Elda, tell them!"

"Nora's due in four weeks."

Aiden bit his lip and Josh jumped up with his mouth open and his hands in his hair. "Four weeks!?" They had realized that the process was different for 'wolves, and though they said accelerated, Josh had assumed the pregnancy would last at least five months. He said it, "Ma'ma said that the average werewolf pregnancy is half of a year!"

"We rarely get cases like yours and Nora's from the onset. Usually it's one or the other or born to humans. Not born to…"

"Born to two freaks. Got it."

"Hey!" This was the first time the girl interacted with them. And obviously the use of the term 'freak' insulted her. Josh apologized quickly, forgetting he wasn't the only one in the room with the condition—and like Nora enjoyed pointing out to him, he seemed like the only one who was not so in harmony with his other half. "Sorry, I don't mean that you as a person are a freak, I just meant the… well the condition."

"Stop," Thom said to end his rambling. Josh did, swallowed, and thought to apologize but the look on the other man's face said it all. "We know some people don't embrace the 'wolf as others do. But you have to remember most do not chose the condition. Just have to live with it."

Elda put her hand on his, and pat it sympathetically. Aiden too stood behind Josh and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. This calmed the brunet and he let out a very tense breath.

"So okay, that's great, why not a phone call or something—"

"You got a problem with us, Fangs?" Thom's question was of a polite volume, but the venom in his voice was worse than any bark.

"—And we could have picked you up at the airport or set up a room for you." Finished Aiden, evenly. "Is Nora going to be home sooner then?"

"She could be, but the last full born under a full moon had complications. The mother stayed at the ranch for a few weeks after delivery. Just missed transformation by the day."

"OH SHIT!" Josh this time did jump up, "You mean you think Nora's going to give birth on the next moon?"

"We can't tell something that detailed yet. Werewolf births aren't an exact science. But yes, it will be pretty close."

"Will she be at any risk?"

"All 'wolf pregnancies are risks," stated Hope unhelpfully. "And anyway, we wanted to let you know that because of the nature of how close the birth will be to the moon, we must discourage you from seeing Nora for the delivery."

Josh seemed as if the child had struck him in the face. This news was not welcome. Werewolf or not, it would be his child, and no amount of transformation will keep him from being there when his own offspring, no matter the condition, took its first breath.

"I don't care if I am transforming right there, I want to be there when my girlfriend delivers it."

He bit it back a bit when he saw Hope wince. Her blue gray eyes flashed a bit of resentment and Josh quickly clarified, "I mean, son or daughter or whichever the case may be."

"We're not going to stop you," Elda said, "Not if you really want to go, but I want you to know that the risk will just increase when you're there."

"Nora will want me there."

That was true. Aiden went into the kitchen to see what kind of food was in the kitchen. Josh kept mostly health drinks and protein supplements in the fridge. Of course, the blood stock was in the vegetable drawer but he doubted his guests would like to have blood while they were human. He came back with a can of V8 and half of a carton of milk. "Drink?"

They looked at him dryly then sat back down.

The mood had eased a bit, Thom was reigning himself in from launching at the other homeowner. Elda was smiling at Sally as she brought her a blanket, and Hope was fidgeting with her toes.

Josh leaped up to help him pour drinks, and Aiden suspected he just wanted to be back in familiar company. "I need to ask for work off. Wonder if Nora wants anything from the house. And are you going to be okay if I go?"

"It's your baby," Aiden shrugged trying to decide if the glasses in the drying rack were clean or dirty. "Why would I mind?"

"The cage fight for Snow is next moon. If I remember correctly, these things don't ever go well for us!"

"In town or out of town, things don't seem to go well for us. You should go to the reserve. That's what you wanted in the car, right? I'll be fine."

"Okay, but you have to promise me you will text me every 12 hours. And don't let Mother burry you again. I am not going to do another party transformation, ever."

"Okay, I got out by myself, and I appreciate your first transformation."

"Thanks buddy!" then Josh guzzled down a drink (not actually intended for him) and returned to the living room. Sally nudged him to let the vampire know she was there. "What's wrong with Josh?"

"There's something wrong with Josh?" he asked, balancing all the drinks on the only baking tray they had. It would have to do as a serving tray.

She paused then stared at him, "What's wrong with **you**?"

"Sally, when we touch you, can you feel anything?"

"Weird woogy things like someone smearing jell'o through your blood stream. But actual touch? No, alas!" She feigned a faint, then added, "Why?"

"Today I spied on the vampire contact from Bristol. And he was talking to a ghost girl who he grabbed. Literally clamped her down. It was only for a second, then she materialized away. I was just wondering if that kind of thing actually works."

"Can you hold my hand?" she asked, reach out. He inadvertently walked through it then apologized profusely for violating her space. Physically, he felt nothing. "Well there you go!"

"Weird then," Aiden let the topic slide when he returned to the were-guests. Sally sat between Hope and Thom, and the girl smiled, scooted closer to the arm rest to make room for her. But Sally didn't need room.

"Aiden, Aiden! Elda and Hope are legacy born."

"That means…" Aiden tried to remember, "They are children of werewolves…who do not show traits of purebreds."

"Right… Purebreds…" Josh, thought about it, "Like Bryn."

"Of course…" Aiden put the cups on the table and instantly without etiquette, Hope snatched a milk. Elda also took one and Thom seemed to contemplate it. "How are they different though, exactly?"

"Purebreds have the werewolf instincts all the time. Most legacy only show the traits on occasions."

"Can you tell what the child will be when it is born?"

"Not really, seems the type is determined on the hour of birth," Elda thought about it then said, "Purebreds are born to women werewolves during the moon. Since gestation happens very quickly in the transformed state, so most births are during transformation. Like your case, most of them are also conceived during the moon. Children born to a human mother and a wolf father tend to be born human. Perhaps exhibiting more human traits than wolf traits. Anxiety during the moon is very common, but not particularly alarming. If there is wolf blood even if they don't show werewolf traits, then they are considered Legacy."

"So what about a werewolf mother out of the moon?"

"Children born out of the moon are a bit more unsure. Some will be Purebred, some will just be Legacy. Some end up being a mix. Like Hope."

"Both of your parents are werewolves?"

Hope looked a bit lost, and had a milk moustache. That she quickly wiped on the back of her knitted sleeve. "They were." She admitted.

"Were?"

"My father was shot at the hand of Vampires. He died human."

"Oh," Aiden felt bad that he asked, "I'm sorry."

"My mom's okay though. She comes visits the reserve during the new moons."

"You're not together?" Josh asked, somewhat shocked.

"My mom runs with a pack. It's pack culture to eat those born not purebred. I think she did me good by not keeping me near the pack." She scratched her curly brown hair then shrugged, "I still love her. It's not like she abandoned me."

"Hope's mother had the instinct telling her she was not going to give birth during the moon. She had come to the reserve with only a few days left and gave birth hours before transforming. Hope had been fighting her for a week and finally she risked everything to sneak from the pack to the reserve."

"Nearly died," Hope said, somewhat proudly, "But after a week or so, she managed. Even as she lay transformed the day after I was born, she did nothing but curl her paws around me and sing me to sleep."

"We brought Hope with us so that you can speak with her and ask her what it's like being Legacy born of two 'wolves." Elda took Josh's hand and he jerked a bit at how intimate that felt. "So you can find out what you can expect."

"Well I'm going to be there for my own kid's birth."

"You were told that's not wise," barked Thom. He stood through Sally and the ghost yipped before re-materializing by Josh.

"I think that, as the father, he gets to choose whether or not he wants to heed your suggestion."

"Like you know anything about being a father, Fangs."

Aiden didn't let that one get to him, equally evenly, the vampire just nodded to keep the peace. "Either way, you are not a deciding party here."

"You're going to cower behind your Bloodsucking owner?" Thom obviously didn't like that Josh wasn't putting Aiden down, "You're a sad excuse for a wolf and I hope your baby is born during your blind transformation."

Thom was addressing Josh now, and angrily he reached forward – in retrospect, to grab his leather jacket off of the seat Josh had been sitting on. But Josh thought he mean to attack him and he shielded himself with his shin.

Aiden swept forward immediately, before he knew what he was doing, and flashed his fangs, deepened his eyes. "Back off, dog." The vampire had tried to be polite, it didn't seem to work, "You don't know anything about Josh and you have no right to judge his worth as a father or as a person."

His roommate put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and tried to eas the vampire out of his frustration. "Come on Aiden. It's okay, I just over-reacted. He wasn't going to attack me."

"Never mind that, he still insulted you."

"He might be right."

"Don't say that, Dude." Aiden was still glowing angry, "You're going to be a great father, wolf or not. And no jerk who invites himself to our house and scorns our hospitality is going to tell you or me that you can't cut it."

Hope had stood in front of Thom too, barring him from reaching out and strangling the vampire. And she was surprisingly effective. "Sit down Thom."

He did. Still snarling.

"Sorry," Elda said, "Thom was born of a pack in California. They have … more serious convictions about vampire blood. And 'wolf births."

Aiden wiped his fangs on his sleeves and let his eyes shallow. It took every nerve in his body to prevent himself from taking a deadly bite out of the house guest's open neck. The wolf blood ran through him, there was no doubt about it. In feeding frenzy, Aiden could smell that wolf poison pulse through the punk's neck- but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he was not a werewolf, he was not anything.

"Aiden was a dad before he was a vampire. Sure, vampires can't have kids of their own, but that doesn't mean Aiden doesn't know what it's like to be a father."

"Aiden had children?" Elda repeated, in some surprise.

This knowledge quelled Thom a bit and though he listened to Sally's words he never took his beady eyes off of the undead host. "Doesn't change anything."

"Changes quite a bit," thought Hope. "Look, Thom. Go get a smoke, I'm going to talk to Josh one on one like Ma'ma wanted me to. And I don't want you to go feral on our sponsors. Elda won't be able to stop you on a blood hunt."

"There are no blood hunts anymore."

"Outside, Thomas. Or I will bite you."

Despite how comical the threat sounded to the Haunt's trio, Thom obviously took this to heart, and if he had dog ears, he would have folded them back. He was muttering as he went out the front door, already fishing through his pockets for a fag and a light.

When the door closed, Elda signed and apologized, "There are very few of us who can leave the reserve for more than a few weeks at a time. Since it does take a few days to travel from the reserve to the nearest town, and a few hours to the airport, even less of us can afford the luxury of traveling for long periods of time." She put down her carrot juice and smiled, "My grandson is not the most understanding of members in our family. And unlike the rest of us legacies, his is a much sorrier story."

"I don't care. He needs to be taught some manners."

"I admire how you stood up to him for Josh though." Hope admitted, "We don't interact with friendly vampires very much. It makes one wonder if what they say about the rivalry must be true."

"I would think most of it is true," Sally said, "But Aiden's one of the golden ones!"

This made the vampire a bit self conscious. He hadn't been on the bloodless bandwagon for very long, others before him had better self control when it came to the addiction. The compliment wasn't even well earned. But Sally didn't let him argue, so Aiden just said, "I care about my friends. That's all."

"And loyalty's highly respected among 'wolves, especially so for Pack 'wolves." Elda stated, "Thom will come around once he cools down."

"Is he… you know… infected?"

Hope looked around as if she wanted more clarification and just said, "… By werewolfism?"

"Is there even a clinical term for it!?" asked Josh, somewhat relieved that others of his kind couldn't figure out what to call the werewolf trait.

"I think it's known as lycanthropy."

"Isn't that a mental disease?" Josh asked, he had looked it up once.

"Yeah, but I think it's, like… for both?" She scratched her head, "We don't really talk about it much as if it is something that's a sickness. It's just a part of who we are."

"People who are OCD say they are OCD."

"I guess so," she looked like a kid for a moment, very much not sure what to say. "Want to go to the kitchen or something? I'm sure you have some questions as to what to expect with 'wolf puppies."

"Yeah." Josh led Hope toward the kitchen where they could still see Aiden and Elda, but then had a thought, "Do you really call children born to werewolves 'puppies'."

"No," she commented as they wandered out of earshot, "I was just trying to be cute."

It was only a few hours later, the women decided it was time to go to their motel. Despite Sally's protests, they declined the invitation to sleep in the guest room, and insisted they get back to the inn before the last bus.

Aiden offered to drive them, and though this relieved Hope, Elda seemed somewhat reluctant to put the vampire in a car with the volatile Thom.

So Josh packed the little girl some left over Chinese food, and Elda was draping the shawl back over Sally's couch when Aiden stepped out to their porch to see if he could find the hothead.

Thom sat on their stoop with a half finished cigarette. He took a drag when the vampire opened the front door and held it in his lungs till Aiden closed the door behind him.

Thom must have barely been twenty or thirty. His dark hair was a curly mess on top of his oily head, but therein lay some sort of rebellious attitude that reminded the vampire a bit of the 60's and all the fun memories that came and went with that decade.

Punk, Rock and roll…

"Elda tells me you all are Vampire Hunters. You have specialized hunters for vampires – in werewolf packs that is."

"What of it, Fangs?" Thom stuffed the cigarette to his mouth, and there he let it hang. The orange glow brightening every other second or so.

"Just figured you wanted to know I knew." Aiden smelled the air, he let out a breath but unlike the 'wolf. He didn't exhale steam despite the chilly September climate. "I hunt vampires too, you know. Killed more than you in my time, probably."

"Whoop-ti-do." The dark haired wolf shrugged his jacket over his shoulder, he made the show that he was not impressed, "That supposed to make me like you, or something? Killing your own kind…"

"Nah, I'm just saying that I know vamps can be jerks sometimes. I killed my own maker a few years ago."

"How much did Elda tell you?" he growled, though with much more venom than Aiden had anticipated.

"She didn't tell me anything, just that you were hunters. I just wanted you to know I don't hold it against you. There are vampires out there who deserve to die. Just like there are werewolves out there who deserve to die."

This time Thom did look at him, for a moment there was a unreadable twinkle. Then the 'wolf got up, stretched his arms skyward then snuffed out the cig under his boot. "Okay, Fangs. But don't think this means we're friends."

"So long as we're not enemies," Aiden extended his hand to the house-guest. The 'wolf ignored it. "You can call me Aiden."

"My name is Thomas." He wiped the cold from his nose. "And thanks for the milk."


	4. Bite Me

**Chapter 4: Bite me**

Sally rarely felt cause to enter vampire territory. But since Josh was going to be gone in a week, for three weeks, and Aiden was so busy pulling all nighters at the hotel for the eminent Snow visit; the ghost was getting a little bit of cabin fever.

And considering Josh had the rare (And not very inviting) welcome to the estate, Sally couldn't help but quell her curiosity. That and spying on the guests was getting boring. She wanted to join them.

The werewolf had been spending a lot of time with the visitors for the past few days they were around. He was learning more about his transformation then than he had in the four years of his curse.

It was very obvious that Hope had some kind of power over his moods. And a great degree of control over her supernatural senses. Despite being half of her roommate's age, she was twice as cool and calm and collected as Josh could ever be.

Her roommate's agitation over his working week had taken the slow burner when compared to the new challenges that await him on the reserve. Still, the office antics did not slow even if the world surrounding them expanded. Josh heard news from the more inquisitive 'bites' that the British legend that Aiden had rendezvoused with early that week had a housemate of a similar situation. A roommate infected with the 'wolf, living somewhere in Bristol. When Josh asked Aiden however, the vampire just rightly shrugged and said he had never heard of such an arrangement – he didn't know.

But he did resolve to bring it up the next conversation they had.

Aiden and Thom developed an unlikely relationship, neither one of friendship or of enemies. Their rivalry seemed wholesome, and quite natural. Thom, unlike the other two 'wolves, did carry weight the curse much more heavily. The oddness of the burden was no veiled secret to the vampire, who had made it through the last twenty decades deciphering hidden agendas. But no one asked him, and he didn't tell anyone.

He didn't see Sally very well, though she suspected he knew her presence. He didn't seem to have the ability to hear to her words distinctly either, but he still sat still when she spoke. She caught him alone some times, when his anger got him kicked out of the room by the other 'wolves. He'd sit on the kitchen porch, out under Aiden's fire escape, and just smoke his wolfbane laced cigarettes.

He always looked out far away, his dark eyes twitching. He was never at peace.

When Aiden said that he was to introduce Mitchell to Mother on that Friday, no one was particularly surprised that he wasn't expected home for the rest of the week. Still he showed up during tea time and informed Josh that his presence too was wanted at the hotel. Naturally, Josh went white.

But a week after the full moon, and with Thurdur's amnesty and with Aiden's tremulous allegiance with the Boston family, Josh figured there was no way out of it without putting he or Aiden on Mother's bad side. He feared the 'wolf, but Mother was a monster of another matter. This perk seemed to glean an unnatural interest with the vampire hunters, who barely veiled their curiosity by leaving abruptly. Elda returned later with some half finished explanation about how their visit to them in Boston was not just a simple house call, but a mission.

And from what confusing mumbo-jumbo from the old wolf that the ghost understood, Sally gathered they had come with regards to the 'wolf disappearances. Aiden flatly refused to assist them in entering the hotel, something Sally thought was wise, considering their state off of the moon, and Boston's reputation of vampire hospitality. Elda insisted, and Aiden held ground.

The woman left.

Sally followed her a while but hidden, and watched them carefully as they rolled out in their motel room.

For otherworldly vampire-slaying travelers, they packed much like tourists. Hope was playing video games, Thom had an old CD player, and Elda was almost always reading a book. She saw a few wooden items, knitting needles, a walking stick, a bag with two door stoppers. If they killed using wooden stakes, then they did so with a great amount of espionage. Not long after dinner was when Sally grew bored and went to find Josh and Aiden at the Hotel.

Mother was measuring a vampire before her, when Sally materialized into the lobby. A bit surprised, Sally clasped her hands together, and shuffled behind the sweeping stair's post rail. For some reason, she expected this interrogation to have been done in some kind of ball room.

About a dozen or so vampire guards surrounded the meeting. This included Olfaq, a dark-skinned, grey-eyed, vampire with braided brown hair. He'd undone his dreads from last year, and kept neat corn rows for now. Sally had heard him speak on multiple occasions, but never in front of groups. And though he looked like a hired gun, Sally had come to half jokingly coining him 'a butler'.

Olfaq had been on Mother's inner circle of trusted guard for about a hundred years, and was the leading responsibility for the entertainment in the Boston Halloway Hotel.

Naturally this meant Sally didn't like him.

He stood behind Mother with a smug smile. Sally could feel spirit energy like a heat pouring off of him. Not from him… just all over him. He had been busy.

"Sally," Josh hissed, motioning her over to him.

All eyes were on her. She must have interrupted something. And from the grim expressions on everyone's faces, Sally guessed it was something unpleasant. She shifted her eyes then ghosted across the room so that she stood behind Josh's shoulder. He was pale—she didn't blame him.

"What's going on…?" the ghost whispered. One would have thought that was something quiet, but in a room filled with no sound, and only a few heart beats, the whisper was anything but. So Josh shushed her.

Mother looked to Sally with her long lashed eyes, blinked then set her rigid porcelain chin back to the victim before her. He stood a good inch or so taller than her, but she still looked down at him. A goddess among demons.

Sally noticed blood on the carpet. She was trying to decide whether or not the stain had been there the last time she was in the hotel, or if it was just made. Blood on Mitchell's sleeve implied it was just made.

"I'm tired of this conversation," Mother finally said. Her thin voice cut the air like a knife.

"But George—"

"Snow must like those messengers who are persistent." She snarled, "I already said I was tired of this topic and it would be wise not to bring it up to me again."

Aiden (who had been standing by Mitchell's elbow) took a step forward and rested his hand gently on the guests' shoulder. Mitchell took it as a sign of hostility and nearly bit the vampire's thumb off.

"My lady, if you don't mind. Perhaps it would quell the guest's inquiries if he were to just check the cages so that he may see for himself. If nothing else, then the accusations can be laid to rest and the rest of the rite can be completed without a hostile undertone."

"Do you not wish to know when I feel **hostile**, Aiden?" Mother hissed.

"It would not be wise to upset your brother Old One on the circle, a mere decade before the passage turns."

The old queen did think about this, then finally let out a cold sigh before waving her hand to the butler. "Olfaq. Once Mr. Mitchell here has accepted the terms and signed his paperwork, you may take him to your entertainment ground. Do what you will with him. Just be sure that his whimpering comes to an end."

This didn't please the old vampire, but still he said: "Yes Ma'am."

The competition came to an end and Mother ascended the staircase in a blink. She glowered down at the gathering below her then calmed her breath. "Little Ghoul," which actually had come to be something of a pet name for Sally. Sally winked out of view for a second before she gathered her wits. "Join me in my office."

"Should have waited till after the meeting," Josh growled under his breath at her.

"How was I to know the meeting was at the front stoop?" Sally asked before she quickly, and obediently, materialized to the top of the step. Mother had already left that place though, so Sally turned and dashed after her as the doors closed.

"Why do my brothers insist on sending me the riffraff?" Mother sighed, putting her bracelet on her office table and wringing her wrist as she fetched a decanter. "I do not appreciate being treated like a thing to be bribed."

"Who is he?" Sally asked, she waited till mother sat before she sat down herself.

"John Mitchell is a neophyte," the old queen started, taking a drawn out sniff of the blood. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes old, as she smelled it the heat from the blood smoked up the glass. She drank it daintily, and it stained the line of her lips a warm glow.

They had a source somewhere, bought hands of rebels or homeless folks willing to trade their lives for the servitude of cattle. Sally couldn't understand how any human could stoop that low. But it kept the old vampires off of the innocent and money in the pockets of starving artists. She quit complaining about it when she learned what was good for her.

"He was a pet project, of an old employee of mine that never took wing. And he is very much a breathing disappointment to a peace treaty," she poured a small cup of red blood for Sally and placed it on the edge of the table.

Sally thanked her and hovered her hands over the little teacup, but she could not drink it… sometimes she wondered if Mother knew that.

"Some of the vampires at the hospital say that Mitchell lives with a werewolf. Is that true?"

"I do not know. What happened to Mitchell in his personal life after he turned isn't of much interest to me. I care only of his reputation in Briton, and I must say I am vastly unimpressed. If you ever begin something, never back down; never let anyone change who you are."

"You think that's what happened to Mitchell, he changed?"

"I think he was never in it for the long run in the first place." She finished her glass. "To become an old one, like us, one must not let empathy follow you. It's not that the sympathy makes you weak, it's the lack of blood kills you. One cannot survive on cold bodies for a hundred years. There are those who have had a change of heart in the past, not uncommon and not completely unrespectable, but deadly to us within decades. Mitchell will die sooner, without a bloodlust he will just cease to exist. A death worse than ash, I suspect. Oblivion… Starvation."

Sally did not bring up the obvious. It was times like these she suspected Mother missed Sarun. That she would pretend a ghost (the ghost roommate of a scorned right hand, no less) was her own daughter was tell enough to the law student.

Sally wanted to hate Mother, and for all rights and purposes, she did. But some human part inside her felt pity for the woman. The woman who, after a few thousand years, could not show any affection to the one being that ever loved her unconditionally.

But this was what Saurn must have known, that despite her mother's painful messages and cold calculating conversations, she was her mother—and protector and queen of a different time. Saurn fought her will upon will to the end, to the moment that wills were not enough, and the stake went through her bursting heart. Saurn knew that she was her mother's daughter, flesh, body… and she would never abandon her.

The moment was over, and mother opened an envelop addressed to someone named 'Great One.' She read it, signed it, then put it back in the envelope then back at the drawer. Sally swore she did so slowly, and deliberately. Before the drawer was closed, Mother said to Sally, "Little Ghoul, there is a ghost pickering around the courtyard. I find her whiny and irksome and suspect she has something to do with that oddity of a vampire that is John Mitchell."

Sally looked out the window and didn't see anything obvious, but it was well after 2 and the quarter moon was washed out by thick rain clouds.

"Do me a favor and tell her to pass on. I do not wish to appear hostile to a child of the dead."

"Right," Sally didn't know how to send off another ghost, just lead some to their doors. And even then, she had very little to do with that. "You take care, Mother."

Any excuse to get out of the office, though. She materialized herself briskly out of the queen's proximity and right to Aiden who was packing a night pack of some sort while John Mitchell was in the foyer with some officials signing away. Judging by the grim and pleasure-less expression on the vampire's face, they were willing away his very head.


	5. Little Ghouls

**Chapter 5: Little Ghouls**

"Is she upset?" Aiden asked quickly, dropping his things then turning to Sally so that he could check her over and make sure there was no evidence of emotional abuse.

"I'm fine, Aiden." Sally bristled. She didn't like being coddled, though she had to admit she could feel the pent up tension lessening now that she had left the office, "Just her usual. She's not pleased with Mitchell though."

"Not surprised," Josh added, "Guy's not very smart about talking back to the Mother of all Vampires."

"Shuush." Aiden shifted his eyes once around the room to see if anyone could overhear them. Then he said, "This isn't the best place to gossip."

"I was just saying…" Josh trailed off.

"I'm half shocked that the Family lets the two of you in, let alone likes you. Did you hear what they did to Mitchell's roommate back at Bristol?"

"Okay so I give him props for having a werewolf roommate."

"It's true then?"

"It's what Mitchell was fighting with Mother about." Aiden turned to look, "He seems to think that we have him and we're keeping him to be used against him."

"Are you?"

"Not as far as I know. Olfaq denied it. Then again, maybe we just don't know. We've picked up a lot of different strays and haven't really checked up on their identities."

"You ought to have a system for that," thought Josh, "What if one of them were some famous or rich person? Then you get investigations, trail of bodies, and then open secret of the vampire society running the heart of Boston's underground."

"The family takes care of that kind of thing."

"But you can't keep track of what poor person you've abducted in the night?" the werewolf's question was redundant, and the ghost liked it.

"Josh's got a point."

"Thank you, Sally."

Aiden rolled his eyes, "Alright, I'll bring it up on my next available opportunity." Aiden slung the pack onto his back, "You ready for this?"

"Yeah, okay, can't get much more ready."

Sally gave the both of them a 'I missed the first half of the meeting'-look and said, "Ready for what?"

"Olfaq wants us to bring Josh to the cage. I think it's a power trip—to remind him his place at the family."

"You're going into the Cage?" Sally had to clamp her mouth shut when the boys shushed her, "Why on earth would you think that is a good idea… again?"

"Look, I've already been there, I'm pretty well prepared to see what I can see. Who knows, maybe they'll let me take one home?"

"If we can free one from the Cage, I'm betting it'll be Mitchell's friend George."

"Awww. You guys almost make it sound like you're shopping for an ASPCA rescue."

Josh, unintentionally, growled at her and she made the motions of pinching his cheeks and puckering her lips, "whad a cute widdle puppy."

"You coming to the Cage with us?"

"I guess. Mother asked me to check up on something first, but if I'm free I'll come." She thought about her last visit and couldn't shake the image of bloodlust vampires holding fists of twenties like they were watching some hooker fight a monkey to the death. "Then again, I might not."

"Imagine how I feel…" agreed Josh dryly.

All of a sudden Sally felt bad for teasing Josh about being a house pet.

Mitchell finished signing his work and then turned to move near Sally's housemates. When he saw her he hesitated, as if he'd seen a ghost… which he did, so in some ways he acted appropriately.

Sally smiled waved at him and this seemed to calm him a bit. He may have been expecting someone else. Mitchell had a very angular face, his hair could use a comb but he himself was not a hard thing to look at. She shrugged, gave her room mates a ghost wave then turned to go out to the garden—she caught sight of a ghost trail though as it misted from the foot of the sweeping staircase and re materialized by the window.

"Bye guys," she said, not letting herself lose sight of the other apparition. She let herself fade through the space, to the staircase. From where the ghost had been, there was a very good view of the foyer, they had all been in clear eyeshot. She whistled herself to the window but by the time she reached it, the rain was pouring, the sill was wet, and there was no evidence of the other ghost anywhere.

"Hello hello-o?" Sally called out, rain or no rain, she wouldn't get wet, but sometimes she thought she could feel the raindrops as they passed through her. "Hello ghost hotline?"

The night was blustery in the living world; all that wind and rain and heat flurried up in the late autumn air. In the spirit world, though, climate depended on something else; the moon, the emotions, simple magic. And despite the fury that was darkened with blistery rain, the spirit world was still, a bit muggy, and calm.

"Who are you?" she mustn't have been from around here, since she spoke like she came out of some Jane Austin novel. "Do you work with the vampires in Boston?"

Sally giggled, "Say 'vampires' again."

The darkened and empty courtyard repeated, "Vampires."

The way the British pronounce things make Sally giddy. She let herself get excited from the word then finally gathered herself and said, "No. I'm friends with a few though."

"That Mother woman," the other said, Sally heard the unpleasant undertone.

"I'm not her friend. I don't think she has any. But she likes to have me near her, since I'm a ghost and she can't expect me to tell tales."

There was a quiet. Obviously this joke didn't appeal to her new friend.

"Mother lost her daughter about eight months ago. Her daughter from when she was a human. So I think having me around helps her cope. At least she can't abuse me."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story…" Sally didn't want to recount the starcrossed nature of Suren and Aiden's relationship to a total stranger. The blood. The death. The attempts to escape the life only resulting in Suren's weak willpower to stay or go – her own murder at the hands of her own mother. "But I'd rather talk about you, and not my roommate's ex."

"Your room mate was dating The Mother?" There was a flicker of shock behind her and Sally turned to see if the apparition had appeared. She didn't but the ghost of her spirit shimmered a little where she must have stood.

"Aiden? Oh god no, he dated her Mother's daughter." She thought about it, realized it was more of a business proposition with sex and feelings, then amended "Or the vampire equivalent of dating…"

This time the ghost did flash into sight. She was taller than Sally by quite a lot. And had the perfect skin, the natural messy warm brown hair. Bright eyed. "You live with a vampire?"

"Well… it's not like, a live in boyfriend or anything like that. He's just a roommate."

"A room mate!?" The glee on her face put Sally off a bit. She assumed that all ghosts who lived in houses somewhere lived with people in said houses. Normal people would only keep an empty haunted house up for the gimmick. And if every ghost was a gimmick, then the joke would not be funny.

"Well I guess more like one of the guys who lives in the apartment I haunt? It's not like I pay rent or utilities or anything like that."

"Are you good friends with these American vampires?"

Sally realized she was going around in circles. She rubbed her neck then slowly repeated, "I just said they're not really my friends."

"Well you know them right? Someone I followed to America got kidnapped here, by vampires."

"Are you Sure-e?" Sally looked at this stranger as she pranced. She seemed high strung, even for Sally. "That John Mitchell guy inside was saying something similar."

"You know Mitchell!?" her excitement pulled her atoms apart, and she took a second to re-materialize as young woman and while she did Sally stood watching the rain as it fell from the sky.

"I saw him get his ass handed to him by the Mother of all vampires."

"She's not actually the 'Mother of vampires'. She's one of the youngest in the Old Ones."

"Really?" that did interest Sally. "Wait, okay first of all: who are you missing? And why do you think vampires took him?"

"Because I have seen him!"

"Yeah, yeah okay," Sally was finding it hard to keep the other girl from hyperventilating. She wasn't even sure that ghosts needed air. The theory was becoming moot, for the stranger didn't seem to need air when she ranted. "Re-WIND, sister. Hi my name is Sally Malik. Nice to meet you."

The other ghost gasped. Suppose she did need air after all. "I'm Annie."

"Okay good. Now what can I do for you to help you find your door?"

"Oh, I have no idea where my door is." She didn't seem to think the door was all that important. "But you can help me with my friend's problem. Just ask your American vampire buddies for a favour. Or just beg with them to let him go. Or maybe she could just bust him out… But that might get Mitchell into trouble with Snow. Snow must know what's going on… does he? Do you think?"

Sally let the other specter talk to herself before she finally said, "Look, the vampires from the Boston family have my friends in some sort of a debt. So I can't actually ask anything of them. But if I knew the problem, I could help explain the situation."

This caught Annie by surprise, "Can I show you?"

The eagerness in her eyes made Sally take a half step back, "Yes. By all means—", she had wanted to say 'show me'. But it was too late. Annie had latched on to Sally's aura and dragged her through the vale of darkness. The poor ghost felt her head spiral into the supernatural around her, stuffed and stretched—the earth changed poles, spun in a completely new direction and then came to a jarring, halting stop. She had to use all of her energy to keep her molecules together and scrambled for one discombobulated second to decipher where she was. Still near the hotel's grounds. About two stories under the lobby and east.

Unlike the still spiritual weather outside, where all was calm and dead, the thick of evil buzzed like a heat in the quiet dark room. It was loud in here.

"Oh my God!" Sally was not pleased, "A little warning next time! Geeze." But the other ghost was not listening. Instead she had rushed to the darkest corner of the tiny cellar.

"George! I'm here. I'm here!"

'George' as it were, was naked on the floor of a narrow cage. It was long enough to lay flat in, but not enough to curl in. It was not tall enough to stand in either, the top of the cage came to Sally's shoulders. Blood, dry and rancid, painted the tarp on the floor of the cell and the figure was trembling with a chain on his wrists.

Sally ducked down to see the figure, and nearly stood through the cage at the sight of him. He couldn't have been older than 30, skinny, scrawny, and covered in goo. The bone from his femor stitched through the light and the skin on half of his face was a newly healed pink.

"Mitchell?" even when he spoke it shuddered like the very voice itself was broken.

"Not yet," Annie said, "I brought help."

Sally did stand up. "_I_ am help?" George looked up at her and she knew instantly he was a 'wolf. "You're the werewolf that Mitchell was talking about! His room mate!"

"Housemate," Annie said. "and yeah. You have got to help. We're still in the hotel grounds. Under the hotel grounds, they put him here. He was more cut before but he heals fast. Still the fever is getting worse and he needs medicine."

"Medicine? He need's to get the hell out of here." Sally touched the bars, there were flecks of silver shards on them, and she could tell it was specifically designed for the werewolf captives. "Hold on. I'll go tell Aiden."

"Hurry."

"Please lady." And Sally materialized to the Cage. She tried to find somewhere inconspicuous so she would not be seen by anyone, and promptly confronted Hope, as she snuck around with a butterfly knife in her hand. "Oh."

Hope's stared startled wide eyes at the apparition of Sally before very cautiously saying, "Hi."


	6. And This is the Cage

**Chapter 6: And This is the Cage**

The moment they reached the pens, Aiden was fully aware his Jewish roommate was not the only free wolf in the Cage. For a while the scent mingled in with the other sights and sounds—but as they got deeper into the vampire liar, the more sure they were that Hope and Thom were somewhere on the establishment grounds. At first Aiden thought he was the only one to notice, but he had turned glanced at his roommate and with a single nod, realized he had picked up on their smell too. They didn't have to speak, it was just so clear to them after all the years of knowing each other.

Not any of the other vampires, like Olfaq and Mitchell (who seemed to be too busy competing with each other for best fangs of the year) had made any indication that they senseed anything amiss, and after a moment, Aiden realized it was because the smell of 'wolf was strong enough. _What would be two new bodies to someone who didn't know them?_

The two hospital workers tensed, as if expecting something to explode without notice. But the tour continued, and Mitchell checked the conditions and faces of every 'wolf that was in the cages without any incident. Each soulful, mourning eyes and little, whimpering voices did not yield any face that Mitchell seemed to recognize. And though he didn't like how they were treated, Aiden got the sense he wasn't interested enough to help these strangers from their predicament.

"He's not here," the British vampire stated.

Olfaq took the cue and had the mind to look insulted. "Of course not. It is as we said." He ran his tongue against his fangs and rattled the silver bars, "If it were up to me I would never have let you come down here in the first place."

"Why not?"

"Too many accidents," Olfaq sneered. It was true, vampires were deathly allergic to werewolf blood. And a cut on a cut could result in a quick, ugly vampire death. "But you got clout behind you." Aiden only frowned in disapproval when the older vampire indicated to him. "Mother likes him."

Mitchell did turn to Aiden now, the fury and frustration was etched obviously in his angular face. But he held no qualms toward the American vampire as it were- just a few general vampire Family complaints.

"Do not be jealous Olfaq. You are in fact, one of the only who I have known to serve Mother without her single complaint. You know as well as I do that her favor is a deadly boon. What all vampires actually want is for her to be reliant."

"Don't try to flatter me."

The vampire just snorted, shorting out a laugh. "I don't even like you, Olfaq. Why the hell would I want to flatter you?"

Oddly enough, this comment satisfied the dark vampire and he merrily turned to show off his catch. "New werewolves, most of these. Turned last moon by a new 'wolf in the neighbourhood."

"Maybe I'm just that strong." Josh chuckled. Then his light lost the mirth when he saw his tough guy joke was not funny to the entertainment guide. The face he made, in turn, forced Aiden to stifle a smile. He loved Josh for a reason.

"You are an exception to everything, Dog." Naturally, Olfaq didn't like that there was a werewolf in higher standings in the Family than himself. "Even your brutality has nothing to stand on this beast. We do, on occasion take down werewolf menaces to the human population. We _do _need to feed on something living after all."

This implication that vampires were protecting humans did make Josh smirk. He knew by now that any time vampires pretended to be man's saviour from werewolves usually meant one of the beasts was scaring them shitless. Josh knew, even if no other werewolf knew. Josh knew that werewolves in form were the only things tougher than vampires, and the only thing they feared. A mouth full of wolf blood and a vampire would keel over, poisoned, bleeding—his curse was an immunity to their curse.

Olfaq feared Josh. "You think I'm brutal?"

"I think you're a pest!"

Aiden stepped between them and gave Josh a telling eye-roll. The 'wolf tried to stifle a grin then happened to catch the eye of John Mitchell while Aiden turned to glare threats at Olfaq.

The jovial mood turned sour the moment the other vampire exchanged eye contact with him. The orderly didn't really know what to make of this stranger; sometimes he liked him enough—sometimes he thought he would kill him.

"What?"

"Nothing." The vampire pouted. He turned away.

Josh gave Mitchell a final calculating look, then turned to sniff the rafters. Thom and Hope's scent had worn dim, and by the time they descended deeper into the Cage, to the entertainment ring, it had disappeared completely.

"Do you still smell them?" Aiden hissed, when Olfaq showed Mitchell an empty gate room on the other side of the ring.

"No. Maybe they went home."

"I hope nothing happened to them."

"What would they be doing here anyway? They must have followed us. They must have over heard everything."

"Don't think it matters," Aiden tried to act casual as the other vampires approached them. "They have their own missions, I guess, just like us."

"The mission: not to die from disfavor." Josh joked dryly.

"The mission: not to die from disfavor," agreed Aiden. Then to the room at large, "Well then, Mitchell. Is everything to your satisfaction?"

"No, this place is disgusting."

"No argument there." Josh added.

Olfaq stifled a sneer then just said, "It's not for your entertainment, it's for the entertainment of the masses."

"And the Old Ones," Aiden added. Olfaq accepted this amendment. He didn't comment more on the matter.

"I trust then you will not bother Mother about my facilities."

"No," Mitchell's eyes twinkled in lies, "No I won't."

Aiden saw it, he knew it, he shook his head to warn him. But the vampire king was not in any mood to accept suggestions. Mitchell intended to snap Olfaq's neck and check the whole cage top to bottom. But Aiden knew his objective was not there. "If you can't smell him, then you won't find him."

This suggestion, Mitchell did contemplate. He wanted to kill Aiden, he wanted to kill Olfaq. He would have killed any of the vampires that stood between him and the missing werewolf. And honestly, Aiden wasn't sure if he would win against the rage. But Mitchell cooled his bloodlust, - Aiden could almost see the hunger float out of his body -, then he turned to the entertainment guide and said, "I think I will just go home then. I'll leave you alone, for now."

Olfaq must have subconsciously felt the truth for he settled into a smug superiority complex and then started to whistle. "We're keeping some fresh girls upstairs if you want any. All aged 20, all volunteers. If you care to sample the menu for next month…"

"Who volunteers to die at these things?" Mitchell was disgusted, and that feature impressed Josh.

"A great many," replied Olfaq, "the house spares no expense for the events."

"He's baiting you, buddy." Aiden chuckled, "He'd never let anyone bleed any of his dishes before a big party."

"Oh."

"I'd like to go home now," suggested Josh, he was looking sadly at an old homeless man in one cage. "There's no good gonna come out of sticking around."

"True." Aiden thanked Olfaq, and brushed past the accompanying vampires, "Mitchell, I'll drive you back to the safe house."

The British vampire hesitated, as if trying to re-evaluate the other vampire before him, then finally he said, "thank you," and followed them back through the labyrinth of silver cages.


	7. House-pets and Strays

**Chapter 7: House-pets and Strays**

This was among the only times Sally was thankful that she couldn't touch anything in the living world. Otherwise she would be there with Hope and Thom as they crouched over the bathtub scrubbing the blood out of their fingernails and trying not to get the gore on their shirts stuck to their biceps.

Elda was elbow deep in George's skin, pulling infections and splinters of silver out from his flesh and into the plastic popcorn bowl that Sally managed to fight over to her.

There was werewolf blood all over the house, but more than that, there was vampire blood. Tearing through the one at the cellar entrance and the three at the back garden was gory—for monsters who need others' blood to survive, they sure carried a lot in themselves.

Thom and Hope were a deceptively vicious pair. They tore through the adversaries with their bare hands as if they were gutting pumpkins for the carving. They were efficient, trained, sure, coordinated. Everything a soldier needed to be. But they weren't soldiers, they were young and they were warriors.

It was pristine, until Thom turned his eyes on Sally and Annie, and lunged for them with his blood drenched fingers. He ripped through air, the girls screamed, he thrashed wildly at their presences some more, then Hope called his name- then the battle was over.

Less than a minute later, he reverted to being blind to the sight of them.

In the house they went to clean up after Elda said she didn't need them and they had spent over an hour running the water. Sally didn't complain, though she would have to kick the furnace a few times if the boys wanted a hot shower when they came home.

Hope came out first, as innocent as she had seemed the first day. She was wiping her white hands on Josh's blue towel as if she had just washed up after a meal. She cleaned up well: had taken off her outer shirt so that she was wearing some sleeveless black top. There were no marks on her, even the slices that she had cut on the back of her fingers healed completely. _Werewolf blood probably did that for her_.

Annie was shocked by the self mutilation, so much so that she flickered in and out of sight, even to Sally. Sally tried not to flinch; she had seen Suren do the same thing to her own kind—with more grace, but no less fatality. Still it unnerved the ghost that someone so young could kill so calmly. Suren was over a thousand years old; innocence should have been lost by then. Hope was barely twelve.

"How is the progress, Elda?"

"This is the 'wolf, Hope. Once the silver is out, he'll heal before morning."

"Good. See to it it's all gone. We can't stay in this house for too long. Too much blood will attract other hunters."

"Of course," Elda drained her towel in the bucket and shook out a few more silver shards.

"Must you use your hands?" Annie whined, her sleeves covering her face. She didn't want to watch.

Elda just chuckled, "this is faster than picking around with tweezers. And since he's already opened up, what's the difference?"

Annie decided that George's agony was the difference but Eldapulled out another silver fragment and a stretchy red string of some sort came with it. The ghost disappeared and not just from view.

"That is pretty gnarly," commented Sally, and Elda just smiled. "You're doing it on purpose?"

"She's an easy one to tease."

"Oh, that's just cruel."

"The silver is poison to a 'wolf's body, just like deadman's blood and 'wolf's blood is poisonous to a vampire. We would want to scrape the blood around the infection anyway—so it is just as humane with an experienced hand as tweezers and gauze."

"It's still gross." Sally decided not to fade out like Annie and instead concentrated on carrying another clean towel to Elda. The house could absorb the blood into the walls, she was not worried about that. But the towels came from the boys when they had moved in, they would not be so easy to clean.

The werewolves had laid out trash bags by the blanket, and shoved aside the coffee table and the couches. Thom had accidentally smeared a blood smudge on the bathroom door on his way in, before he realized Sally could have opened it for the both of them. Hope had already wiped it clean with a towel. But Sally still felt the 'wolf on the knob when she walked past it. She may scrub it supernaturally later, who knows what kind of infections they could bring to Aiden.

Annie had known about the blood poison. So when Hope and Thom ran the switch blades over the backs of her knuckles, Annie had been a little more prepared what to see. Sally had not, and stood stricken with shock when they rushed toward the guards barehanded.

But blood to blood contact itself was not enough to fell the guards; instead Hope and Thom had to crack heads, rip out throats and break bones before the dust of the dead floated in the air. Despite the ferocity and the feral attacks, they were quick, quiet, and cruel. And within no time, they had George bundled in a raincoat and were running out the back door.

And that feral attack was something Annie had not anticipated and she proceeded to jump and jerk every time the 'wolf legacies tore through vampire flesh.

Sally beat them to the house, and had the door open for them by the time they reached. Elda came first, on some mystical cue, prepared with rags and bags and cleaning solutions. The other two came less than half an hour later to a room prepared for 'werewolf E.R.'.

At the front step, Thom had lost the blood lust But Hope's eyes were still keen and ready—every part of her screamed alert. It didn't die down until Elda started her work—and Sally shut all of the doors and windows. She barred them locked, and wasn't sure if she could have opened it for even Josh and Aiden if they had returned some time during the entire gory episode. Looks like they would be finished before they got home-

-Late.

George was a pitiful thing, under that swamp of blood and bath towels and quivering sheets. Elda had covered what she wasn't working on and the pools of blood outlined the muscle definition around his raw and open wounds. He was past crying out, and instead gnashed his teeth till blood oozed out of his lips. Someone had stuffed a towel in his mouth and his moans rang muted by the fluffy pink textiles.

When the old wolf woman had finished with his thigh, she carefully smoothed his skin over the raw flesh, and this time Sally did turn away when she saw the exposed muscles clench and unclench. If a ghost could eat something, she would have thrown up.

"The bone's not broken—"

"What a relief," said Hope to herself.

"—and the skin will set now that the silver is out. When its firm, you can clean him up and see if Thom has any clothes to lend him." She got up from her knees, and Sally heard them crack. She acted as old as she looked in this brief moment. "I will phone the reserve. Ma'ma will be glad to know we've found him first."

"You were looking for him?" Sally asked, Hope was already gathering all of the bloody items and putting them into the popcorn bowl. "Why is it everyone's looking for him?"

The little werewolf didn't know what she meant, so Sally explained the episode in the Hotel, where John Mitchell, and then Annie Sawyer demanded they find George. So Hope too explained.

"Purebreds and Legacies have a supernatural bond with other werewolves. The moment this wolf landed in America, everyone with blood knew it. And not just those werewolves on the reserve: Thom's pack and my mom's pack knew it.

"When you run with a pack, you know that there is a pecking order. Alpha male before Alpha female, beta female before gamma male. Rank is slotted by bloodline. The parent's curse is passed to the offspring, whether the trait is inherited or imprinted. Part of it has to do with strength, but most of the status is supernatural—you don't chose your lot in the pack, the pack chooses you.

"This might be obvious for big wolf packs, but what most lone werewolves don't know is that they all carry the order's traits as well. All werewolves follow a hierarchy based off of their bloodline, and for those 'wolves who encourage breeding of purebreds, they know that there are desirable mates and undesirable mates."

Sally tried not to look confused, "So you're saying, packs pick their wolf partners based on how they'll make stronger babies."

"Basically. If you're a gamma, the only way you can move up to beta is if your offspring is beta. You don't inherit any of the beta's traits, but you collect their status."

"Okay. So living in a pack of wild supernatural shape shifters is virtually like living in the feudal ages of King Arthur's court.—"

Quietly Hope pouted, "We're werewolves, not shape-shifters…" Sally ignored her.

"—Then what exactly does that have to do with George?"

Hope hesitated. "George comes from a prestigious line of werewolves common on the British isles. They are cursed or blessed with the children of the dawn. The line has historically been loners, and very few are born as opposed to turned, and most turned are accidents. According to lore, all wolves from his bloodline can sire the child that will herald the eve of war and the ultimate destruction of all vampires or the destruction of all werewolves."

"That is poppycock." The two girls turned to the staircase where Annie had braved to sit. The ghost looked stricken, and hopeless as she grabbed the handrail's posts with her long and slender hands. "It's not logical. It's not even believable."

"There are wolves out there who believe in this as much as any one human believes in a god." Hope's implication was deep, and Sally instantly tightened herself up as if she expected a hundred werewolves to burst through the door and try to drag George's shivering body out of the living room.

"Say you are right and George is this great bloodline of supernatural werewolves. Why aren't people snatching up all of the werewolves that came before him? Or any of the ones he's turned?"

Hope's eyes widened in terror, "He's turned others?"

Annie flushed, hid further behind the bars and did not elaborate. This agitated the little wolf but she just shook her head as quickly as she could then ignored the question. "There is a common bloodline here in America known as the Shaman. Enough have the strain here to sense when an alpha Evebringer is a particularly potent threat. Ma'am is one of them, Elda is one of them…"

"Shaman," Annie spat, Sally could tell little-ghost-England didn't like the word. "What's so bloody great about that? Some hoodoo status?"

Hope's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Shamans are the first werewolves to harmonize their human and wolf halves. They were the first to remember and control their actions during the moon's phases. They're people to be respected."

Annie realized she had offended the little girl so she pouted to show her disagreement but said no more.

"Look, George here may not bring any purebred children into the world. But we can't take that risk. If we can bring him to the reserve, we can watch him so that his blood won't pass on to another generation. And no pack could take advantage of his bloodline."

"He's not a beast to be mated and bred!" This time Annie was clearly offended, "He's a boy! He has civil rights and freedoms and feelings and warmth and love! You cannot take him away from us."

"Do you love him?"

The sincerity in Hope's expression shook the rage out of Annie's features for half of a second and she quite flustered said: "What? No, not me! He's a friend. He's my best friend."

The little wolf looked deflated, "Oh." She considered it then said, "Well we can't let him go out and breed. His blood is strong… and should he meet another with the same curse who wants to take advantage of the prophesy-"

"Do you even hear yourself? You're mad. Simply mad!" and she flickered from her spot straight to the werewolf's side. "I appreciate what you have done to get George out of that awful place. But if you don't mind, I would like you to leave."

"We're not going to leave!" Hope wailed like the tween that she apparently was. Obviously, the little girl was convinced of her little story. And She didn't like 'no' as an answer, "He can't fall into the wrong crowd. One mistake is all it will take to bring ruin to werewolves and vampires."

But Sally had to agree with the other ghost and just said, "You guys better go. We'll talk with him after he heals up. Maybe he'll come with you willingly."

"But—" Hope was cut off, when Elda came from the kitchen.

"Perhaps it _would_ be best if we gave them some time to think about it. Shouldn't we, Hope?"

The little girl shot the older woman an icy glare, but stilled her tongue. Then without any explanation she nodded, sighed, and then smoothed the wrinkles out of her little plaid skirt. "I guess so. We'll throw this out—" she indicated to the popcorn bowl, "—then call a cab. Elda, go find Thom, he should still be in the bathroom."

"I'll get him," and before anyone could stop her, Sally projected herself to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. The door was half open so she let herself in and promptly came up to the fine skinned trim of the half naked wolf-man in her bathroom.

He, like Hope, had taken his shirt off and was soaking it in the water in the sink. It had a barely peachy tinge to it and was as still as death, but Sally could see that he had drained, then soaked then drained his shirt several times for the floor was puddle in various shades of deep red water.

Under his shirt, Thom was a chiseled beast, cut and shaped with a tight chest and firm shoulders. But if there was something that caught Sally's attention, it was how thin he was; how sharply his ribs could be outlined under his pale complexion.

She yelped at the sight of him and he shot up a bit and sniffed the air. Looking frustrated he turned around and for a moment, among the suspicion, Sally thought she saw a bit of desperation.

"It must be Sally," he said.

She cursed herself quietly- she had forgotten he couldn't see ghosts very well. "Yeah, sorry. I… I just wanted to tell you that were leaving soon. But I totally spaced and now I can't speak to you and you can't see me and—"

She was about to materialize away and go find Elda, when Thom quickly said, "I'm sorry that I attacked you at the hotel earlier. Sometimes I can't control myself when I'm a werewolf."

"It's okay Thom, you can't hurt a ghost."

"It's even harder to stop when you run with a pack…" he continued. Sally listened to the bitterness that was laced in his voice. "It's just so easy to get caught up in the rush."

It struck her then, the realization that he couldn't know if she was listening to him or not. "You really upset about this, aren't you?" He was speaking to an empty space—she just happened to be filling it. And even as he approached, and she instinctively took a step back toward the wall, she realized he couldn't have known that she was trapped in the corner – surrounded by the heat of his curse and the cold wall of her house. The 'wolf rolled off of him in pulses—like a fluttering heartbeat. Like a tattered flag in a gusty breeze.

The supernatural power was broken in him—and he was broken because of it. And what was stranger still was that she knew exactly what he was feeling. He had lost—was robbed of— something that gave him life, and he felt the void and heartbreak that comes with the knowledge that he was now a creature less than what he had been. She knew it intimately for she herself had been stripped away of her vitality—and it pained her every day to think she would never again enjoy the pleasures of living, feeling or changing her own life.

Thom leaned his long elbows on the wall behind her and she felt his breath pass through her being—he had enough supernatural magic for her to feel the aura he gave off. She observed his face from there- and while doing so, told him vehemently, with all the feeling of her soul, that she was there. She asked him if he regretted it. She asked him if he hated the way he killed. And she asked him why he would do such a thing.

"I'm really sorry."

That was none of the things she expected to hear from him. And in her stun, she suddenly felt very small and insignificant. She almost winked out.

Unexpectedly he slumped over. His forehead dipping through her space and she caught a glimpse of the moon—and was overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. Sally jerked from out of his mind and shrank below him—since he seemed to have given up believing she was in her tiny little cavern between his body and her bathroom tiles.

"I'm stupid," Thom muttered to himself. He chuckled angrily, "What were you hoping for, Thomas?"

The ghost-heart stung, and she felt a wave of pity for the poor, downtrodden soul before her. With some measure of determination, she walked through his body. Bits of her aura caught and pulled onto his supernatural presence and she shuddered at how it felt—'_like jello through the bloodstream_'. He too must have sensed her body for he tensed up, his hand flew to his heart.

She smoked up the mirror with some hot water then quickly scribbled, '_It's okay_' on the glass. She put a little smiley face in the extra space just for good measure. Sally smiled when she watched Thom read the message. The tension lifted from his shoulders. He read her words with a strange look of relief in his eyes.

"Okay okay," Sally chuckled, pleased that she could get such a rise out of the werewolf stranger. "You don't need to start crying now, puppy." Then she fogged up the other half of the mirror and wrote, '_Elda wants to go home soon._'

He let out a pent up breath, smiled, then took his shirt from the sink and used it to mop up the last of the blood from the bathroom floor.

"Thanks," he said to the empty bathroom. Sally just happened to overhear it and smiled.


	8. Boston SPCA

**Chapter 8: Boston SPCA **

Annie held her hand over George's hand while he quivered on the living room floor. He was covered in a blue hotel towel, large patches of blackened blood pooled in spots around him and they outlined his wounds in a dark red. He was still awake after this whole ordeal, and he locked his steel grey eyes on hers. He was clinging on to the one thing in this whole mess that made sense.

A friend. A sister. A ghost.

The skin over his face was starting to cover some of his exposed flesh, and parts that were scabbed had begun to peel off revealing healthy pink skin. She was thankful for his curse that he could heal from such a thing. She was thankful for his curse that he could see her crying for him.

"It's okay. They're going to leave us alone. You're going to get better right quick," She tried to brush a trail of blood that trickled down his temple but she only felt the aura; his aura, and nothing more. "See, your colour is looking so much better."

George didn't respond, though the specter didn't expect him to. She clawed at his hand hoping somehow she could pass the feeling of her love to him despite having no physical powers. He must have seen her trying for he shaped his fingers around her hand pretending that he held it. He couldn't feel her, but she could feel him and she squeezed his aura back.

George managed a tight and seemingly painful smile in response.

The relief took over the little ghost girl and she laughed to hid her fears.

"I'm not going to be the one to tell Nina that you almost died," though she tried to joke, she felt a tear escape from her and she quickly soaked it up with her wrist. Her voice was choked and her breath was uneven. She wasn't even sure why she was the one crying when it was her housemate that lay butchered in this stranger's house.

"Don't be mad at them," he rasped. The pain made Annie spill tears anew. "They're just trying to help."

"Well taking you away isn't helping anyone. We're going to get you back to Bristol where you belong. Just you see, Mitchell will come and then you, he and I will walk out of that door together," she willed him to hang on.

But George just laughed again, before his throat ripped open and he coughed wetly. He continued to chuckle once the episode is over, "Imagine that, Annie: being comforted by a spectre about walking through strange doors."

"I'm serious George," Annie pouted. She felt the color rise to her cheeks and a tiny angry edge of embarrassment slipped through her façade. "I'm serious!"

He held his chuckle, evidently the pain in his throat kept him from laughing more than her irritation was. "I know you are, Annie. That's what makes you so amazing."

He brushed the air about her face, and she sighed into his hand. She wished he could feel her—or at least know how comforting it was to feel his energy. He closed his eyes a moment, and his breathing was regular; which is why she was startled to hear a small exhale of breath come out from somewhere in the bright living room. She had jerked about suddenly, not sure what to expect.

Surely not Thom, as he watched them from the foot of the wooden staircase. He had put on a jacket and was carrying a plastic bag with something orange in it. _His clothes most likely._

They locked gazes for a minute, as if he was seeing her through a haze of emotion.

But once the stun had worn off, Annie had the right mind to be angry at him. All the sadness and tenderness she had felt toward her 'wolf-touched housemate was put on the backburner.

He must have lost sight of her, for he started to look around a bit surprised before cautiously, and suspiciously sneaking around the living room to the kitchen where Hope was washing what towels she could.

Alda was already packing the dishes on the drying rack and wiped the pinkish water on the sink.

"Ready to go?" Sally had asked the trio, though she was looking at the young man as she said the words.

_Obviously she wasn't trying to speak to that monster._ Annie wondered for a moment if the little American apparition remembered what these people were capable of. "He can't hear you, you twitt."

The little ghost girl smiled back at her houseguest brightly.

Despite being called names, her face showed no evidence of insult. For some reason this made Annie even more irritated.

From what little exposure the British ghoul had of the other, Sally seemed like a nice enough spirit. She was a very thin girl with very sharp features. Her smile was as wide as her face and her deep brown eyes were bright and soulful. Her long brown hair was tied back and windblown. That made Annie a little bit jealous and she found herself wishing she had the foresight to die with a hair tie on.

It's not that Annie had particularly low body image; she knew she was a pretty girl with a pretty face—but Sally had a presence to her. And what she didn't have in her looks, she made up for it in her spirit. So she may have been a bit jealous and insecure about herself in her presence.

But then again, Annie always had been a bit insecure about herself.

"Are you ready?" Alda repeated the question to Thom.

The 'wolf made no verbal response but instead stood ready in the path to the door.

"How do you add time to the laundry machine, Sally?" Hope hovered over the buttons and tried to decide if she needed to actually push one to get it working. The little girl seemed to think about it, then she opened the lid of the washer and dumped an extra cup filled with liquid detergent in the soiled towels for good measure.

Annie, this time, did make a face. That creature was parading around like a little child. _How could someone with so little heart pretend to be such an innocent thing?_ Of course logically it made sense that a werewolf crazed by the moon would have no discrimination as to who he turned. But still, the little ghost couldn't help but imagine that every werewolf in existence out there was at least old enough to drive.

Annie didn't know that the werewolves in her presence were born of that curse. And when the little Hope brought it up, the thought of mating wolves with wolves just to produce more werewolves sickened Annie.

It just sounded so perverted and unnatural.

'_But I'm allowed to have feelings,_' thought the specter. '_And George is allowed to love._'

"Let's get out of here," Thom grunted, "Seems we aren't welcomed" He looked back in the direction of the invalid werewolf, and coincidentally, in the same direction that Annie stood. She knew he was implicating her attitude—and though she knew he couldn't see her, she still made a rude face.

"No, no, not unwelcomed! Just not right now," Sally said so sharply and she looked unpleased. "Tell Thom he's allowed back in the house any time," she turned to Elda and Hope, who only looked at her blankly. She then repeated lamely, "just… not right now."

Annie rolled her eyes and decided to ignore the homeowner's invisible flirtation. She mustn't have been a very old ghost if she didn't get when people couldn't see her. The other two wolves did not pass the message and somehow Hope discovered how to turn the washing machine on. So with nothing else to keep them, and Annie's unwelcoming aurora permeating the entire atmosphere, the trio headed to the door.

"We'll come back tomorrow," Hope told Annie. She just glared at the little girl. "Just to talk."

"Whatever," the grey ghost said. And she didn't watch them as Sally saw them to the bus stop.

Instead, Annie stayed by her housemate's side.

He had been listening, so he must have known the predicament. But he hadn't chosen to respond to anyone in the house bedside's Alda as she scraped clean his shotgun silver.

He was dead quite the whole time since, and she had to watch carefully to see if he was breathing.

"Is he alive?" Sally approached them, ducking around the chairs. She sat on the displaced coffee table and peered in to see under the blanket.

"I think so. I would guess if he did die he'd look in better shape than he does now," Annie looked up at Sally. When she wasn't trying to entertain guests, she was quite a pleasant person to be around.

It was likely she put on the chipper front just to brighten the mood, and not because she herself was very happy in it. The ghost could relate. In some ways, Sally reminded Annie a lot of herself.

Herself before she died. Herself before she gave up her door. Herself before she went to purgatory.

Herself when she was oh-so fragile and the world was so very big.

_Oh, How a few months can change how one can understand the world_.

Sally let go a broad, toothy white grin, "Suppose so. We can have a party if he does."

"George will probably be the type who has his door waiting for him."

"That's not true," George whined.

Sally jumped a little, she didn't realize her stray was awake.

"What unfinished business is there for you, George? You're the most honourable man I know."

"Uh, I'm only thirty. I still go the better half of my life in front of me." He struggled to sit up and for a moment he looked like a little bloody blue hill. Plastic tarp stuck to his shoulder and he peeled it off, slowly.

Sally and Annie both winced while trying not to react. But the shoulder had set and was healing nicely. He was a sickly red, but he was quickly on the mend.

"How's the leg?" Annie asked, putting her hands over his thigh.

He jerked back a bit and said: "Don't touch it!"

Sally giggled, and responded, "it's all mental."

"Not with this ghost, it isn't." Obviously the werewolf had some more energy, for he sounded shrill enough, "She kicks hard, when she puts her mind to it."

"I haven't been able to do that for months," Annie replied, irritated. But before she could get mad at him, he fainted backward and it took all of the ghosts' combined energy to slow his decent. He fell back to the ground and barely had the state of mind to brace his fall.

"It's like I'm drunk," he stated, a bit giddily.

"Can we put him in a room somewhere?"

"You don't expect him to walk up the stairs do you? And if he gets blood on the couch, Josh'll flip shit."

"Oh right," she seemed to just remember, "Your vampire friends…"

"Vampires are not my—" Sally gave up, "Once Josh and Aiden get home, we can ask them to move him to my room."

"You have a room?" The two guests asked, simultaneously.

"Not a bedroom, it's a study with my old couch. Not the most comfortable, but we don't have a lot of other options. Unless you want to sleep with Aiden," she seemed to think about this arrangement, then disappear into a short little day-dream. Finally she went to check on the progress of Josh's towels.

"The blood is gone."

"Just rest George, you're beginning to hallucinate," Annie brushed his aura and he just said 'oh.'

When Sally returned to the living room, Annie finally looked up to her and promptly said, "The blood is gone!"

"ah HA!" cried the werewolf triumphantly. He must have blacked out for half a second for he rocked a bit when he said so.

"When did that happen?"

Sally looked around and said, "Just then."

"How did they get this way?"

"I just cleaned them."

"But how?"

The ghost didn't know how to respond. The house was a part of her, as easily changed as she could move. She just assumed that any ghost who haunted a house could control the home and her own contents. The only time she could interact with anything outside of her house was that time she was a poltergeist. But otherwise, connecting to her home was so natural to her.

"I… uh… just … pulled the paint over the blood?"

"So… the blood is embedded into your drywall?"

"… I guess so?"

Annie, who had for a moment felt superior for being able to physically interact with her housemates, suddenly felt very stupid for not trying to psychically interact with the house when she and the boys still lived in it. It was true though; despite having followed George, Nina and Mitchell to the suburbs, she still felt a connection to the home she left behind.

Haunted by her past, as it were.

The front door made a scraping sound and all the occupants of the living room jolted stiff.

"Shit! My roommates!" Sally pulled the last of the blood through the floor panels and quickly materialized to the small foyer. "Hide!"

"You're joking, right?" George replied, looking somewhat lost.

"Damn," Sally had forgotten. "Okay, well then—"

But she was cut off by swinging of the front door through her whole being and she was suddenly nose to nose with her tall vampiric friend. But she wasn't sure if her sudden proximity was what made him jolt back, or the smell of an entire gallon of 'wolf blood in the air. But he took a huge step back and into the trailing brunet. The smaller man just shouted 'hey!'.

"What is that smell?" His fangs had dropped; his eyes were a solid black. "Is that werewolf blood?"

"Aiden! HI! I meant to warn you but we got caught up in the moment and you know how it is when you don't have enough time for anything-"

"I know this smell…" Aiden, now acclimated to the surprise, launched himself in in and peered around the corner to his dismantled living room. He was battle read, blood driven, ignoring Sally to deal with any threat. A thousand werewolves if need be. Instead he stared point blank and dumbstruck at the couple on the floor.

"But I don't know you."

"Josh, he's going to pounce, hold him," Sally said to the other as he hopped back into the house. If Annie had to guess, Aiden had stepped on his toe when he took that shocked first step back.

"I'm so sorry. We really shouldn't have come," the little gray ghost tried not to panic. For some reason, when Sally had mentioned she was living with vampires, it never registered to her that they would be so powerful, nor did it register that they would see a weakened werewolf as a threat in his house. She wished she could wrap George and his towels into her shawl and teleport them both as far away from here as quickly as possible.

Aiden snarled at the intruders, before the third room mate stepped in.

"Hey. Hey! Aiden, put those away," Josh was a very skinny man, short in comparison to the black haired undead. And he was obviously no match for him in a test of strength, but at the slightest intrusion, the older room mate's attention faltered when he looked down at the dirty blond.

Josh took this moment of confusion to scuttle back to the front door, and closed it hard. The whole room shook.

"It's the aroma of the 'wolf blood. It's making you high."

"Blood," Aiden ducked his face in his hands, to shake his bloodlust off. When he turned back, his fangs had retracted but his eyes took some time to pool back to their normal color. "You're that werewolf! George Sands."

"You know me?" the wolf asked palely.

"John Mitchell has been looking for you. We spent the whole evening looking through the pens."

"Oh!" Annie shot up and covered her mouth with both of her hands, "Mitchell! I totally forgot!" She looked to George then desperately to the others.

"Go. I got this here Annie," Sally waved toward the boys.

"Where is he?"

"We dropped him back off at the guest house in Southend. About half an hour ago," but even before Josh could say, 'check there,' Annie disappeared with a wink.

"You were looking for me?"

"With some speculation whether or not you were actually anywhere to be found. Whose towels are those?" Josh pointed to the motel towels around the guest and the other just shrugged.

"I thought they were yours," George peeled the larger one off of his leg to show the homeowners, and was instantly reminded that his leg skin was still only half attached to his flesh. Part of it came painfully off with the cheap towel.

"Holie-e- " and Aiden went in a flurry to go find his emergency kit.

Josh jumped up, and instantly stopped the other from pulling more skin from his leg George would have dropped the towel. Who knows where it would have fallen.

"Sit still. Don't move. I went to medical school."

George was about to make some comment about vampires picking professions close to blood, when Josh leaned forward to get the other corner of the towel. A single inhale and the British boy gasped, "You're a werewolf."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"But your room mate is a vampire —"

"I said something that I **don't** know."

"How do you live together?"

Josh just smirked at the odd questions in such an odd time, "It's a long story." He thought about it then added, "It's probably not too different from yours and Mitchell's situation."

George tried not to make any comments about the assumption. They must have already met Mitchell. He would have had to trust them a lot to tell them that a werewolf was his housemate. It wasn't a fact that his vampire friend liked to market; especially not to other vampires.

If Mitchell trusted them with this open secret, then George figured he could trust them for a few hours. Trust them, at least, till he could get some real rest.

Aiden returned with a blue paper prep bib, and an oversized first aid kit. He skittered to Josh's side and started pouring hydrogen peroxide generously on a cotton gauze. Josh took it then wiped down the skin from the towel.

It bubbled and bit when it contacted the raw flesh, but the moment it did it peeled itself quickly off of the motel towel. Josh tossed it toward the corner and Aiden, like a practiced nurse, rinsed the access acid off of the invalid with water. The stinging went away immediately.

"How the hell did you treat this?" Aiden was not pleased, "With your hands?"

"Basically," George responded, hissing as they started carefully dabbing the corners of his uprooted skin.

"Alda treated him," Sally contributed. She braced herself to watch wolf ER for the second time that night.

"Alda treated—" Josh whipped about "What were they even doing here in the first place?"

"Where else were we to go?"

"You brought them here?"

"Makes me wish the vampire's curse upon werewolves," Aiden groaned.

Despite the predicament, George and Josh managed to give the vampire identical looks of distain. For a moment, Aiden felt hopelessly out-numbered and went away half bashfully to measure out thin black thread.

When Sally pointed out they had been to the house several times this week without incident, Aiden added, "Well at least we could un-invite them every time they left the house."

"Then I wish that upon all creatures who have tried to tear through the haunt in the last three years," mentioned Josh.

Aiden snapped on a pair of sterilized gloves then started stitching George's skin together, his hands confident and determined. The other werewolf marveled for a moment how the vampire could easily treat him like he were not some mangled beast sitting on his living room floor.

Aiden wiped his stitching hand on the front of his shirt then kept at the sutras. And just as he was done, he wiped more of George's blood off of his hand. "That will have to do for now. We can put butterflies on the other cuts."

He scratched his palm then tried to wipe it on his shirt again absently. "Do you have any allergies to any medication?"

"Penicillin."

"Erythromycin?" Aiden started scratching.

"That's fine."

"I'll see if I can find some tomorrow. Get this infection slowed a bit. How did it—shit."

"Why, what's up?" Josh was putting the butterflies on the smaller wounds as Aiden wandered hastily to the kitchen then scrubbed his hands thoroughly with the sponge, then with soap.

"I don't know. It's like a rash or something. Itches like a bitch."

"Oh right," George said as if he just remembered he had left the water running in the bathroom. "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking. I guess I was just so surprised that you have this skill for stitches."

"You did this?"

George looked quizzically at the other werewolf before he explained, "Wolf blood, so yeah."

Josh and Aiden exchanged blank glances then said nothing. So George continued, "Really? No 'They're coming out of the walls!' acid for blood, 'Ripley I'm scared'." Still no response, "Werewolf blood is deadly to vampires. Come to think of it, I'm surprised you still have your fingers."

Again, Josh and Aiden exchanged glances, but this time full of understanding. And neither of them wanted to point out that Aiden, had on several occasions, quelled a undying thirst for human blood with a drop of werewolf every month or so. Not the healthiest alternative, but effective enough to buy him time. So far, no acid.

"It's not?" George jerked when Josh continued pinching closed his wounds.

"Well, it's not the case with Josh. But obviously I'm not having that good of a time with yours."

"Could be a part of the inherited differences between regional werewolves."

"What?"

"Something Hope explained to us earlier. I'll explain it to you guys later," Sally contributed.

"Ahh." Josh packed the unused supplies back into Aiden's first aid kit. "You spoke a bit with the wolves from the reserves."

"I didn't ask much. I was still a bit bitter that they decided to dig my thigh up with their fingernails."

"Seriously?"

"I like this way better."

Josh chuckled at George's matter of fact statement.

"But I still don't understand how you can withstand the blood."

"Regional differences between vampires maybe?" but Aiden did consider it could be a side effect from feeding off of Josh during moments of panic. He'd gotten to the point where he could tell before he overdosed. That must mean his body was acclimating to the blood as a sustenance. He did not say so. He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel, miraculously not much more soiled than it usually is despite the fate its unused brethren suffered.

In fact they didn't have the time to even continue the topic of conversation for that moment, Annie appeared in the room in the panic that Sally was beginning to associate with her. Then with a shrill, unhappy voice, she squalled:

"Mitchell is gone."


	9. Winter Comes Early

**Chapter 9: Winter Comes Early**

Despite being the Emissary's go-to man for this excursion to North America, Mitchell had only seen Mr. Snow a hand full of times. And he had spoken to him barely twice, both occasions falling within the last eight months. But Snow was the oldest of the Old Ones, and one does not go through a century without hearing his name in the dark circles.

And one does not forget his voice. _Ever_.

When the Mitchell had returned to his apartment, he found his complimentary snack littered in parts around the kitchen. Blood, wasted, pooled on the dinner table and in glass cups. There was evidence of a vicious feeding and possibly more. He wouldn't be sure though, since the only thing that still resembled the poor girl was the slender left ankle, noosed with a nylon twisted rope. Entrails draped like party décor from the kitchen counter to the three-blade ceiling fan, and bloody torn clothes and lacy red undergarments stuck to the walls and the windows. Her face was in the vampire legend's hand and he was judging it like he were critiquing pottery.

"I didn't expect you till the eleventh," the younger vampire mentioned cautiously, tip-toeing around the dismembered body parts. He tried his best to ignore the hunger when her young scent of sweet blood swelled into his senses. He hated how he salivated, and a little shudder of bloodlust rushed through his veins. Not for the first time in the last five years, he struggled with the urge to take up a piece and drain it of liquid.

He'd be like a scavenger. He'd be like a rat. He tried to remember his sins and he tried to remind himself that a minute of pleasure always was followed by a lifetime of remorse.

He reminded himself that giving in was what got him in this mess in the first place.

_Not too safe to drink dead blood anyway, it's not good for you. _Rationalized Mitchell. He repeated, '_it's not good for you,_' in his mind another four or five times before he finally approached the vampire leader.

"I caught an earlier flight," shrugged the other, he mustn't have found fault with the snack's face, for he took a big bite out of her cheek as if he were eating an apple. That image was enough to turn Mitchell's stomach over, and he was no longer hungry for the girl on the house's dining table. He had to look away to hide his disgust while the soft-toothed vampire finished off her head.

Mitchell's American associate had just dropped him off at the safe house and the visitor was hoping to find Annie before he went back out there to look for their missing werewolf compatriot.

She insisted vampires had him, and he trusted her completely. But, as deep a red as he was seeing at the Cage, Aiden's words held logic. George was not there.

Despite being an old vampiric tradition, werewolf fights had been banned in Europe within the last few decades; they were too costly and too high-profile a vampire social gathering. Every arranged 'wolf fight either resulted in uncontrollable feeding frenzies, deaths, or unnecessary human media attention.

The last 'wolf fight Mitchell had been to was during the high tide of the second world war, where a company of American soldiers brought their pets for entertainment, other than that Mitchell hadn't known much about professional 'wolf fights. He wasn't prepared to see the cages.

The fights were not banned in America. In the United States, the fights were passed on by worth of mouth and held in secret underground—but Mitchell had been aware of a particularly large stadium in South America where they practice transparency for their fights. Snow and other Old Ones living in the South American quarters probably encouraged this bloodthirsty tradition.

"The arrangements have been made, per Mother's request," Mitchell wondered where Annie could have been during all of this, and for a moment his soul worried for her innocence. He hopes she had fled when Snow arrived. "And your lodgings have been prepared, stocked and inspected. We can expedite your formal invitations to the house if you want to retire there tonight."

Snow gave Mitchell a menacing look, "Do you think I just turned **yesterday**? All of the Old Ones own the same guest houses. None of us need invitations, even if we would not be injured by that curse."

Mitchell had just been trying to be polite. He apologized then said: "I think you'll find everything else to your satisfaction."

"So far I'm not impressed," Snow admitted, dropping what was left of his snack onto a small ceramic platter in front of him. "By them, or by you."

It was then Mitchell noticed the Star of David pendant coiled neatly on the corner of that platter.

"George!" The pendant belonged to his housemate.

"Your precious little mongrel is alive," Snow announced before Mitchell could lunge forward in anger. The Old One dabbed the corners of his lips with a cloth napkin and then dropped it over his devoured dinner. "He's alive just enough to remind you why you are here, and who you serve."

"If you've hurt him—" Mitchell wanted to say he would tear off the other vampire's arms with his hands, but the Old One cut him off.

"He's far worse than hurt, Mitchell. He's dying, bleeding, needs medical attention, riddled with silver. But he's **alive** and we'll keep him such so that you will cooperate till your contract with me has been paid fully."

Mitchell scowled. Dealing with Wyndham's blackmail seemed difficult enough, he was beginning to wonder if making this one-time deal with Snow would be any better. "You'll be clearing my slate with Edgar Wyndham. That's motivation enough for me to do all these things that you ask of me. George was never a part of the agreement."

"Oh with you youngsters, you can never be too careful. And no one likes to get caught with their pants down," Snow grinned and displayed his rotted teeth proudly. "Do a good job and maybe we'll open up his wounds less often during the day. Hmm?"

This time Mitchell did drop his fangs. He hissed loudly, and a bit childishly, but he was very upset. "Let me see him."

"'Let me see him, Mr. Snow, _Please'_," sang the vampire, "Really, manners that the young generation have these days…"

"Don't play games, Snow. I'm not lifting a finger against Mother or Yuum or any of the others until I see George."

"Oh, alright. Suppose it's only reasonable," he wiped his fingers on the towel, "Driver?"

And a pair of vampires in dark suits stood up from the back porch and entered the bloodied kitchen. Mitchell instantly did not like them. "Fetch me my coat please, and then take us to the Boston Halloway Hotel."

The thinner of the two nodded, rushed to the garage door and in a few seconds returned with Snow's ash colored trench coat. The other went to start the car. Mitchell followed the other into the car and sat respectfully in his corner of the 300C's luxurious black leather seats feeling much like a sardine in the presence of a shark. He had just threatened Snow, and how he had to ride bitch with him, talk about awkward.

'_Maybe I'm too far below him for him to take notice of me,_' thought Mitchell as Snow straightened the fingers of his black gloves and then adjusted the strap of his seatbelt.

They had traveled in silence along the little American roads. The Darkness was thinning and the weekend was waking, and Mitchell couldn't imagine any more of an uncomfortable car ride than here, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the being who claimed to be the creator of the modern vampire.

When the road changed from Interstate-93 to Atlantic, Snow finally said, "I really hate American cars."

- - - - -{Elsewhere}- - - - -

"Mitchell is gone!" Annie repeated, as if any of the other occupants in the room couldn't hear her outburst the first time. "The condo is trashed, the little girl is completely torn apart and the blood, the blood, and her face!-"

Sally ghost herself to Annie's side and frantically waved her aura onto her shoulders. They mingled a bit and while Annie tried to pull her particles out of Sally's, slowly came into a softer hysteria.

"Okay, girlfriend. Say that again, but this time _with_ air."

"I just went to the safe house. Mitchell's not there. The girl that that the Family gave Mitchell to drink? She had been killed. Slaughtered. Her guts were on the ceiling! How does it even get on the ceiling?"

"Mitchell didn't do it did he?"

"Of course not!" she looked furiously at the American ghost and Sally just made a 'don't blame me for asking' face. "It was someone else. It was someone who wants to hurt Mitchell."

"You can't be sure of that. The home is situated in a vampire popular place in town," Aiden reached for his cell phone anyway. "Maybe someone desperate saw a tethered girl as easy dinner. There isn't a reason I can think of that Mitchell would be treated as anything less than an asset by the Family."

"You don't know that! Mitchell was sent here by his superiors on orders to assassinate someone!"

"What?" Aiden recoiled at the very thought, "who was he suppose to kill?"

"I don't know," Annie cried.

"Mother?" The other vampire was letting the urgency blast through his voice.

"I don't know," Annie repeated.

"Janssen?"

"I don't know!"

"Won't you leave her alone," George cut in loudly enough to be heard over the inquisition, and Josh helped him to a sitting position. "Annie, look we don't know what happened in the house after we left. For all we know, someone did break in and tear up that poor girl. But that also means we don't have any reason to think Mitchell is in immediate danger. Maybe he went back to the hotel to tell the Mother."

"Mitchell—" she started, worry laced in her whine.

"He's lived longer than either of us have, Annie. He can take care of himself for a little while."

"Look, that's all well and good and I know he is your friend and everything, but if he's planning on murdering someone in the Family, I do kind of need to know."

"Why do you need to know?" Annie snapped. Aiden didn't like the conversation any more than she did. He had to **ensure** Mother's confidence or the already tremulous peace-grounds that he protects Sally and Josh in would threaten to collapse. Mother's expectations of him were the only thing keeping Josh alive, and Sally out of purgatory. _One more trip to the waiting room and she may not come back as Sally._ Aiden didn't even want to think of what could happen to Josh if he disappointed the Family again.

"It is my duty to know," Aiden had meant to raise his voice, but dropping his fangs and filling up his eyes was half involuntary. "I can't protect any of you if insist on hiding the dangers from me."

"It's not you he wants to kill."

"Then who?" Realizing that retort was sharp and rude and **not** helping the matter any, Aiden made a conscious effort to take a deep breath and slow his speech, "If he is going to be going up against any of the Vampires from the Dutch or the Old Ones, Mitchell will be completely outclassed. Mother herself could pull out his heart before he even saw her coming."

"This is true, we've seen how a fight between them would end already," Josh received a glare from Sally at the mention of that memory. He realized that it may have been a bit insensitive to say that to his friends. "If we can talk him out of it…" he trailed off quietly.

"I'll call Henry and see if anyone went back to the hotel," and Aiden turned away to dial on his cell phone. Something Sally and Josh suspected was what he wanted to do before the whole thing got this far out of hand.

"Who would have the clout to hire a vampire like Mitchell?" Josh asked, once Aiden had started speaking to his phone.

"I don't know him personally, but Mitchell calls him Snow," Annie looked miserable and spent. "Snow wants someone on the council. Mitchell didn't tell us the details, but I overheard him on the phone. It was just another vampire to me; I don't remember who he asked for."

"Isn't Snow the on Old Ones' chair this century?" Josh asked, "He's the one that Aiden had been preparing hospitality for all month. I thought he and the Family were friends."

Sally shrugged, "I guess not."

They all turned when Aiden shuffled quickly back in grabbing his navy blue sweater from where it draped over the stair railings. He said 'Okay, be there in a minute. Thanks Henry.' Then to the room at large, "There's a problem at the hotel."

"A 'problem'?" echoed Josh, suspiciously

"The Emissary Snow and his vampire familiar are already in town. What makes matters worse, someone tore through the groundkeeper's estate. It was a massacre: we lost a few new-blood and one of the senior security members."

"Ooh," Sally flushed a bit of a guilty color, "That may have been us!"

"You?" Aiden fought back a swear word, and just said, "It was those 'wolfs from the reserves, wasn't it? Okay, well either way I must go there now. If Mr. Snow is at the hotel, its likely Mitchell, as his fore-runner, is there with him."

"I'm going with you," Annie insisted, she materialized before Aiden and he staggered trying not to hit her as he reached his front door.

"Just be quiet, okay?" then the vampire searched his pockets for his keys. "And stay out of sight if you can help it. Mother's almost always a little more heartless during the day."

"I can be quiet," Annie pouted, insulted that she had to be shushed like a little child. She found, however, after fifteen minutes in the car with the stoic vampire, that being quiet would be quite the challenge.

Aiden's vampire associate, Henry, was waiting for Aiden when they pulled into the hotel's parking lot. He gave the ghost a quick once over, thought to say something then decided to simply ignore Annie. Annie didn't ignore him though; he was a stunning looking man, though Annie wasn't sure if she would have used the word 'attractive' if she had just glanced at him. He had the same dark mysterious aura that almost all vampires carried and he had that allure that made him both menacing and inviting. But like all still blood vampires, he looked like a creature too good to be true and therein lay his only note of repulsion, that slightly crawling feeling that a man like him could not be human.

"Snow was not here during the attack. But Hettie overheard it. She's in a state of bloodlust."

"She's insatiable," groaned Aiden.

"Who is Hettie?" Annie leaped a bit to catch their attention.

"Snow's familiar. She's also a member of the Old Ones. And she's as bloodthirsty as the lot of them. I've had to entertain her two or three times in the last century. It's never enjoyable. And clean up is a bitch. Just be glad you guys didn't run into her on your way out."

"You were at the hotel earlier?" the vampire named Henry asked.

"Don't ask any more," cautioned Aiden. His offspring just looked at him unhappily. "Where is Hettie?"

"Ballroom," and from the way the young doctor said it, Aiden understood she was feeding.

"Milo?"

"Not with them."

"Good. That is one less hassle to deal with. Have you seen the vampire Mitchell?"

"The chew-toy?" Henry made the unusual reference to an insensitive nick name, "He's actually on his way here. Snow's driver just radioed in saying Snow and Mitchell were on I-93. They should be arriving any minute now."

"Okay. Help me hide this one," he signalled to Annie and she protested, "And I'll deal with the Hettie."

"But I—" '_want to speak to Mitchell_,' was what Annie had meant to say. But Aiden, in an unveiled rush, cut her off swiftly.

"You can see Mitchell after you confirm he's safe with Mr. Snow. Then **before** you speak to him, go back to the house and tell your werewolf friend that your boyfriend is safe."

"He's not my boyfriend…" But she blushed and nodded obediently when Aiden gave her a very stern and unpleasant look. "But I'm coming **right** back."

Aiden sighed, "I don't expect any less of you."

So Annie hid herself from sight and watched by Henry's shoulder as the black Chrysler ground to a stop in front of the big sign in front of the premise that read 'Boston Halloway Hotel'. She sighed in relief when she saw Mitchell crawl out of the driver-side passenger seat and look loathingly at the hotel's large tracery windows. She waited long enough to confirm it was her vampire that Aiden approached, Mitchell's gait familiar and distinct to her. And in her hurry, she flew off back to the Haunt before she saw the seething anger in her housemate's eyes when he smelled George off of Aiden's clothes.


	10. Snips, and Snails and Puppy-dog Tales

**Chapter 10: Snips, and Snails and Puppy-dog Tales**

A few minutes after the place had cleared out, Sally excused herself to her study saying: when they were ready, the guest could come use her couch as a makeshift cot. She dust herself away; guys assumed, to her room. This left the werewolves in the house some time to bond.

It was now when Josh took a good look at the other werewolf.

George reminded Josh of himself in harder luck and deeper pain. The American hated this curse, and he hated the wolf for what it did while it was under the craze of the moon, but from what Josh could tell, George hated the 'wolf for what it brought to him in his life.

But despite having that empathy for the visitor, Josh couldn't help but find some relief in his presence. It was refreshing to be with someone else who was as disconnected with his other half as he was; even Ray had made some sort of symbiosis with his 'wolf.

As Josh helped George to his feet and up the stairs to the bathroom, he thought, '_maybe this is what it feels like to run with a pack._'

He abolished the very idea once he realized that imagining he was in a pack would mean he was admitting to himself he was the monster.

In the bathroom, George eased into the porcelain tub and Josh retrieved the hand towels on the drying rack behind him. Soaked with lukewarm tap water, the host handed the towels to George so that he could tend his own wounds. He rummaged under the sink for a clean basin.

"Brush away from the stitches. And then here is a syringe: you squirt it in **that**-" he used his hands to indicate George's entire body, "-general area." He resumed his fussing. "And this water in the bottle is sterilized, but I'll start disinfecting some more so you can get your whole body. If you get the gauze wet—"

"Josh," George cut in, as Josh rushed from corner to corner of the tiny bathroom, "its okay. I got it."

"I know, it's just that we don't get a lot of visitors like us—" He hissed at his slip and said, "I mean _you_. I meant _like you_." Josh was filling disinfectant salts in the bathroom sink, now half filled with warm water. "And besides, if you'll be staying here till tomorrow morning, we'd like you to feel at home."

"Oddly enough," started George, watching Josh with his ash grey eyes, "I already do."

Josh hesitated a moment, caught in the intensity of the companion's gaze. His heart swelled up involuntarily, flattered at the compliment. Then finally he shuddered as if physically shaking would somehow loosen that connection he felt with his visitor, "That's so weird."

"Yeah," agreed George, equally uncomfortable, "It didn't mean to have come out that queer. Not that there is anything wrong with being homosexual or anything! I'm just not, well you know? … yeah-" He stammered a moment then finally said, "I guess I just meant to say 'thank you'. It's been really hard to find anyone to relate to since the you-know-what."

Josh made an understanding grimace, "and it just feels like the more you try to control it, the more out of hand things get. One slip up, you let go for one minute, and you ruin someone's life…"

"It's really isolated," and the boys trailed off.

Josh tried to shrug off the melancholy then excused himself from the bathroom giving his new friend some space. He rummaged through his drawers for any carefully folded clothes that he didn't mind parting with. After ten minutes or so, he had gathered a collection of T-shirts, polo shirts and one of the seven identical pairs of black gym shorts he owned.

"I didn't know what you wanted to wear so I got you a black shirt, a black polo, a red shirt, a green shirt and a blue polo. This one has a hole in the underarm though; I've been meaning to throw it out. Oh and pants—" he looked up as George was towel drying his thigh, a clean string of blood thread through the tub's rose-colored water. "—hey, that looks a lot better than I thought it would."

George agreed. He had a goofy grin on his tender pink face.

"Is that a pair of Jersey shorts?"

Josh checked the tab, "Uh…Champion" He squinted to read the faded print then triumphantly said, "Yeah! 'Jersey shorts.'"

"I have a pair of those back at my flat," George reached over and thanked him. He struggled a bit to put them on, winced when the seam of the pants caught one of his stitches, then finally tied the string in front of his hips. He dripped himself out of the tub then used what was left of the sterilized water to wash his arms, and his hands. He leaned on the toilet for support and Josh draped his clothes on the edge of the tiny bathroom sink.

George took the red shirt, the one on the top, then eased himself into it. "You're smaller than I am."

Josh made a face, "I know. I'm sorry. Aiden is probably closer to your shoulder size, but his clothes are definitely not clean, he lives like a caveman."

George chuckled and let Josh lead him to Sally's room. She had already converted the couch to a bed, and had cleared some of her things from where they were on the floor. The empty book shelf had a few decorations on it; some photos, some trinkets and some toys- but most of those items Sally had to concentrate to interact with, and she couldn't feel them the way she could feel her clothes or house. Despite being her belongings, the things were not a part of the Haunt when she died. Aiden and Josh had brought most of the shelf's contents to her from her mother's house after they had moved in.

The ghost herself was not in her study, but Josh took the liberty to ease the other werewolf onto the springy bed. He knew from the look on the other man's face that George felt the loose wire when he lay down to rest, though the British man didn't say anything.

"I'll go get you a blanket. And I have a few flannel shirts, but they're for sleeping. If your skin stops giving you trouble later, I can lend you one." Josh considered leaving, now that George was situated: he really wanted to mop the trail of blood that traced their path from the tarp to the bathroom.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah," The man's eyebrows shot up, and he furrowed trying to force them back down. "What's up?"

"Those werewolves who rescued me from the prison: Who are they, exactly?"

"Friends," Josh thought about those strangers and just said, "Sort of. I mean, I had met them last week- or two weeks ago-, they are helping me take care of my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend here?"

"No, no. She's on a werewolf reserve in New Mexico." Josh caught George's eyes widen while he tried to stifle a laugh. "Okay. I admit, it sounds really weird."

"A werewolf reserve?" George was grinning unabashedly now that Josh was beginning to chuckle, "I really doubt that any werewolf needs to be protected on a reserve."

"As far as I understand, it's more like a monastery than a wild-life park. There's a dorm, there's a church, there's all sorts of natural boundaries, lakes, forests, mountains and rivers…" then Josh remembered the most important part, "it is surrounded by miles of mountains and the closest other settlement is a whole day away by four wheel. The wolf would have to be running flat out for the whole night if it wanted to reach civilization before the sun came up. There is almost virtually no chance that you could accidentally infect an unsuspecting person."

"Ah, right up. That would be ideal," and George tried to imagine his wolf being caged in by free air and fresh running water. Cut off from people. Waking up knowing he had not harmed another. Waking up knowing he could not pass on the curse to another. "How did you find it?"

Josh shrugged, "They found us, actually." He remembered when Nora had collapsed in the house. He was reminded of that moment when his heart stopped and Nora shut down as the doctor assured him their baby was not hurt. He could still hear that grinding of his teeth as he bit back the pitiful groan: '_not again_'.

But it wasn't carelessness this time. After the first pregnancy, they had been extra careful when it came to prevention. They watched the calendars, they had protection every time—and Josh knew Nora had been taking oral contraceptives and always watched herself very seriously. When it survived their next transformation, they had both agreed, the baby belonged to the 'wolves.

_Who knew that werewolves were immune to the pill?_

No sooner had they been convinced their child was cursed, the first visitor appeared at their door. She was a young woman, wearing jeans and a tight white shirt; and she was a legacy werewolf that had been born on the reserve but chose to leave and live in New York. She made the trip to see them on the request of her family.

She convinced them she was a helper of female 'wolves, and the next week, Josh and Nora flew to Albuquerque to meet some old American housewife for tea at an airport coffee shop. Her name was Ma'ma, that even unnerved Nora.

"We were in … trouble. I just found out the wolf impregnated my girlfriend's wolf. Then out of no-where, the founder of the reserve **found** us. I don't even know how."

"Shamans…" George recalled what Hope had said earlier.

"Something like that, the details are over my head." Josh finished the story quickly saying that Nora and he had agreed to send her to the reserve to watch the pregnancy. He was not allowed to stay during gestation, but they had said he could come and be there during the birth.

George swallowed every bit of Josh's story, and for the first time since the first (and only) ultrasound, Josh found himself recounting this tale to someone aloud. Even as he told it, the images he had dulled and the imaginations he had repressed exploded from his mind's eye to his mouth with the fury of a gushing waterfall. He couldn't hold it in.

Josh knew this, like every other pain in his life, was dammed back by his own fear of self control—_or lack there of._

He stopped at the point where Hope, Thom and Elda entered his life, and he reflected on the outburst that he surprised himself with.

George either didn't notice or had plenty of practice in listening for he didn't seem uncomfortable or confused by the near emotional collapse. "You don't think you can take care of a…" He paused trying to swallow a dry clot in his raw throat, "baby 'wolf?"

Josh carried on as if his insecurities didn't cow him "How can I?" the American replied, "I can't even take care of my 'wolf." Josh laughed, easing himself into the conversation more comfortably, "Hell. I can barely take care of myself as a **man**. I can't imagine what it would be like to be responsible for raising a good child; let alone a good werewolf!"

"What do you think baby werewolves eat?" wondered George aloud. Josh threw his hands up in the air in an exaggerated and exasperated shrug. "Do they suckle?"

Josh pondered that thought. "It would suck if my girlfriend gave birth to a liter."

George chuckled. "I haven't even thought about kids since I was infected. Not once." And then he remembered the prophecy that Hope had given them. His mirth melted almost instantly.

"In general, Nora's just a lot stronger about this whole 'wolf thing than I am, too. I changed her and she's still the one who encourages me when the 'wolf starts creeping in. I did that to her. And now I did this to her."

"You infected her?"

"It was an accident, and every day I regret having dragged her into this. If I could have had the guts to tell her what was inside of me from the beginning then she—" he sighed, he had visited this nightmare many times in his head. Telling it to a stranger wouldn't change what happened, "I **should** have warned her."

"So, do you love her?"

"Yes. I mean, I think I do," Josh nodded, "Yeah I do. I just can't help but feel so guilty, though."

"I know the feeling. it-" George hesitated, and Josh felt his heart go straight to his stomach, for he knew what was coming next, "It scratched my girlfriend too."

Josh gave the other man's hand a soft, lame pat.

"Your friends said it would be dangerous for me to be out there. That the 'wolf's bloodline was going to be the end of world."

"Really? 'End of the world'?" Josh tried to imagine Thom in apocalyptic-prophet-mode and couldn't do it. "They said that?"

"With all the seriousness of a grammar school teacher."

"So they're helpful in a pinch," Josh chuckled. "But no one can predict something like that."

"Either way. I'm thinking about letting them take me. I could live on that werewolf reserve where the monster couldn't hurt anyone."

Josh stared at him blankly, "Like, permanently? What about Annie or Mitchell? Don't you have any other friends that will miss you?" Josh remembered, "Would you just leave your girlfriend alone?"

George did think about that. _Realistically, Nina could come; she was his wolf's responsibility after all._ But if he could never see his home again, he would never see Annie or Mitchell. Despite the glaring doubts, he said, "I've abandoned everything once. Can it be that hard to do it again?"

Josh saw the Haunt as his life support. He had once run away from his family, his home, his school and his fiancé; but that was because he had been changed. And through that desperation and isolation, he found in Aiden a confidante; someone struggling with his monster in ways that Josh could at least feel some connection to. Aiden's issues were wholly separated from Josh's yet being with someone as tormented by the supernatural in a similar but unique way helped Josh feel a little more accepted. He couldn't imagine giving up his home here, even if he had done it before. He couldn't give up the dysfunctional comfort that followed finding a family in the mystical black mess.

"I don't think anyone should give up on something because of the fear of what hasn't happened yet. So there may be consequences of continuing on, but there may also be great opportunities. If you just give up, how can you live?"

"Hard to think that way when there's a _thing_ living inside your self."

"Yeah." Josh couldn't really argue with that.

But he was still trying to change all of that; he was willing to fight on and find his cure, support his woman and (if he needed to) protect his unborn child. Even if Josh's loins were not given the stamp of approval from doomsayers, he had been dreading the birth of Nora's baby as if it were the harbinger of the apocalypse. It may have been the werewolf that had gotten Nora's werewolf pregnant, but Josh had to take responsibility for the it and their happiness.

_No one should run from something this big for ever._

Even if the possibilities scared the living day-lights out of his soul, he knew he owed it to his girlfriend to continue fighting. And for the first time in months, Josh felt empowered enough to accept he was going to be a father of a monster. He would raise it to be the best person he could. Even though he feared the future, he resolved to love his baby and accept it in any condition.

_No matter what._

Josh took a deep, pent up breath, then stood up while stretching to the sky. "O-okay then! Are you hungry? I keep making family dinners, but Sally can't eat and Aiden has the appetite of a mouse. I was thinking of making breakfast!"

"Maybe later. I could definitely use some flatcakes."

"Done deal!" and Josh turned to exit the bedroom when Annie suddenly appeared in his path making the two occupants in the room jump.

"Annie!" George smiled brightly and she closed the gap between them, shifting to her knees. Josh gave them their privacy then went about planning his grocery list. He had the graveyard shift between that day and the next day. Then the graveyard shift on Sunday. His schedule would revert to normal the following Tuesday. He had some time to rest.

So Josh thanked Sally for setting up the bedroom. Sally said she cleaned up the blood on the staircase, and then the werewolf tottered into his own bed.

With the blinds half open, early weekend sunlight flickered on the wooden slats, and he blinked reflectively at them. The cold and quiet of the room surrounded him, and Nora's scent lightly floated off of his pillows. He did love her. And if the baby was going to be born purebred, the so be it. He probably could still raise it to be a good person. Odds were high against having a normal life, as if that had ever been in arms reach before, but if Nora was with him, he could live faintly happy in it.

He snaked his hand into his tight jean pocket and fumbled around with his phone. When he finally struggled it out of his pants, he searched for Nora's number and punched 'send'.

He held his breath the entire time the dialing sound rang and only dared release it when he heard her fumble with answering.

"Hello?" came the woman's concerned yet sleepy reply. Though gravely with the abrupt awaking, simply hearing her voice lifted his spirits. "Josh? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just missed you, that's all."

She sighed, and for a second she said nothing before she replied, "I miss you too." He chuckled he imagined that she might have fallen asleep for a second over the call. "Sweetie, you know it's 4:30 over here? I'm sleeping."

"I know. I'm sorry. Hope is here."

"Oh good. Did she tell you? Soon, huh?"

"Yeah," Josh held his phone tenderly and nuzzled it to his ear, "Are you ready?"

"No, are you?"

"We'll be ready. And Nora-?"

"Yes Josh?"

"I'll be there with you. I promise. **Nothing** will keep me from seeing our child come into this world."

* * *

AN: SO! ... Season 3 of the ScyFi version is now two episodes in. And my story is completely debunk now. ha ha. I knew I was going to AU some of my facts but honestly, I didn't expect the US version to deviate so much from the UK version. I'm kind of glad that they did, it makes the two shows feel similar but still unique- which sort of enhances what I like about it: its like it's the same universe but different lives. Still... THIS MEANS MY STORY IS SO OFF.

I had considered doing this before, but after the main story section has been finished I will put up a vague timeline of the events that I 'expected to happen'/'made up' that led to the first chapter of my story. If you're interested in seeing what transpired then, feel free to poke around. I may or may not (depending on my feedback) continue on this timeline to write stories of this group.

on the side not, folks: we are more than half way through. And this is where all of exposition ends. =}

Enjoy!


	11. Snow in the Fall

**Chapter 11: Snow in the Fall**

Before Aiden could say 'Mitchell', the other vampire was tearing through the air, his fangs out and his eyes as black as the morning's first shadows. The son of the print-maker had barely enough time to raise his arms over his face and he braced himself for the first rampant fist. Mitchell didn't let the block deter him, and continued with uncharacteristic speed to re arm another punch.

"I almost trusted you!"

The moment's accusation gave Aiden enough time to arm up and he sniffed the air for movement. With a practiced sweep, he launched Mitchell away by ramming the butt of his palm firmly up the other vampire's stomach and through his diaphragm. Something he knew would give him another second to collect himself before his assailant's breath would normalize.

"Aiden," Henry too had dropped his mask and coiled his thighs.

"Wait." Aiden hadn't meant to show fangs; the knee jerk reaction compounded the frenzy that was about to start, "Wait a second. We can just talk about this."

He tried to shallow his eyes but in that second Mitchell slammed his entire body into the American and his fist flew hard into Aiden's jaw. He staggered back, tangled in the other man's attack and smashed the back of his head on the hotel signboard. That blow was enough to break all the concentration he had managed. The two locked on each other as Mitchell seem to try and strangle the offender with his nails.

Aiden, blinded by hot flashes, rolled his eyes under his deep dark brows then ripped out instinctively and wrenched the younger vampire to his side. Freeing his knee, he dug his boot onto Mitchell's hip and kicked as sharply as he could. The other vampire scraped back along the gravel before scrambling back to his feet.

Aiden hissed loudly still blinking away spots, and in a pleasant lapse of self control, launched himself forward, dragging his fist through Mitchell's face. It drew vampire blood, and Mitchell coughed. So the American wasted no time to spin around and cock his arm back for another punch, but the British vampire ducked then thrust his whole body into Aiden's ribcage again.

Winded and half shocked, the two vampires fell down to the gravel with snarls and gnashing.

Snow was just stepping out of the car and he faced the pending sunrise with a soft smile. The cool air frosted the whole day with a gray sort of tone and ships from the harbor were starting to blow their fog horns regularly. The ancient one pat his coat's breast pocket, found his sun glasses and in a smooth motion eased them over his eyes so that he could watch the vampire skirmish more clearly. "Ahh. **This** is good entertainment," sighed the vampire with an understated pleasure.

Aiden and Mitchell were a bit too pre-occupied with their predicament to comprehend what the other was saying; Aiden would later be thankful that Snow didn't see this display as an example of the Family's inability to handle issues diplomatically.

When it became obvious Mitchell was not going to stand for conversation during a fang fight, Aiden resorted to evading. He hadn't wanted to harm Mitchell over a misunderstanding but dodging a blood-frenzy fighter was proving to be a lot more difficult for Aiden than he had anticipated. And since Mitchell seemed to have enough dexterity and strength to simply escape from Aiden's practiced pins, the American was tempted to just knock the British brawler out and try and talk some sense into him after he had strapped him to a hotel bed.

"Okay, Mitchell I'm not going to fight—" he said 'oof' instead of 'you' when the attacker's fist collided with Aiden's nose.

This time, Aiden started bleeding. He brushed his face, his features seething with frustration. He wanted to unleash the bloodlust—he wanted to return Mitchell's reaction with the feral response of his own. But he was getting older and he was starting to comprehend that this— the moment when all control switched off and a vampire sees nothing but the anger and the blood— was a dangerous event horizon. Mitchell was angry enough to have already reached his limits, and refused to be spoken down. But Aiden was beginning to recognize when he was about to breach the point of no return and sometimes_—just sometimes_, he had the strength and self control to step away.

So with great effort, he backed away from the fangs in front of him, then he returned to Henry's side on the other end of the driveway with vampire speed.

Brushing the blood from his lips, he masked his face, and Henry (though suspiciously) saw Aiden and did the same. The escorts too seethed their fangs, but they didn't lower their stance. But they knew Aiden by reputation only, and neither had been very keen on interrupting a fight between Snow's chosen and Mother's chosen.

"Ah," Snow noted the end of the fight, then made his way to the front door sounding mildly disappointed "Okay, then carry on. I will check on our guest."

It was then the main door to the hotel opened, and Hettie walked out with the front of her lacy blue dress drenched in fresh bright blood and a generous part of her meal melting like chocolate in her hand. Mother followed closely behind her standing over the little vampire with another part of the meal in a crystal goblet.

Mitchell's black eyes trained sharply at the two women and, seeing nothing but blood, curbed his rage from Aiden to the Old Ones. With superhuman speed, the ex-vampire-king swallowed the gap between himself and the hotel's front door.

With practice, instinct and base reaction, Aiden did what he was best known for and he sliced himself between the assailant and Mother in the blink of an eye.

Over the decades, he had been Mother's protector, and Sauren's protector. When it came to his undead training, serving them came more naturally than speaking. It took the last ounce of his consciousness to remember Mitchell was not his enemy, and only by sheer luck did he adjust his aim from Mitchell's heart to the other's head.

The cracking sound of Aiden's knuckles on the man's cheekbone echoed through the Boston dawn. And unconscious, Mitchell slumped to the ground, hitting the white concrete staircase loudly.

Hettie's eyes were bright and Snow himself had turned to look over his shoulder as if he had almost been impressed. He gave Aiden an approving second glance then continued up the stairs to stand by the regal Family lady.

"I brought you a drink, Mister Snow," She said courteously and diplomatically. "One of many choice samples you may enjoy from our selection."

A sip and this did impress the vampire legend. "At least the lady of the house knows how to show some hospitality." He looked back over at Aiden, who was just now catching the last of his breath. "Is this your newest protégé?"

"My name is Aiden, sir," the vampire dipped his head respectfully, old etiquette hitting hard and he realized he had tucked his hand over his belt as he nodded. "I apologize for not being at the hotel for your arrival. And I apologize for this unfortunate event," he indicated toward Mitchell, "I promise you we have treated him with better manners before today."

Snow sniffed, half amused, half unimpressed then lifted his shades off of his eyes to reveal his hot, old gaze. "He is a very well groomed lapdog."

"Thank you," Mother said, then as they turned to enter the hotel, the old woman draped her pale elegant arm into Snow's hooked elbow. He escorted her back through the Hotel doors. Then to Olfaq, "Pick that thing up off of the floor. Suppose we'll have to bring it inside now." The butler nodded. "Oh, and Aiden?"

The vampire nurse's dead heart threw itself into his ribcage and he tried not to look worried. "Yes ma'am?"

"Don't think I didn't see you restrain yourself on that dreg." He knew very well she could have lifted her finger and Mitchell's head would have rolled. "Next time you let someone who attacks me live; I will take your teeth."

Aiden smiled and sighed in relief, she was forgiving him for his association with Mitchell. "Yes ma'am."

"Make sure you don't hold back next time."

And the doors to the Hotel closed behind the three Old Ones. Aiden stood at the top of the staircase still half bent over his wrist. He only straightened when he realized he was in no trouble at all. This episode may quell Mother over, the issue of the werewolf prison break still needed to be resolved. But presently, she didn't seem to care that there was anything amiss in the grounds keeper's attachment.

And for a while, his fears for his selected family were quelled as well. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how relieved he felt.

Olfaq, however, was not pleased.

"Hey, daydreamer. Stop grinning like an idiot. You going to help me move this body, or not?"

- - - -{_Not long later_}- - - -

"U-uh," Annie approached Aiden as he was trying to avoid thinking about the virgin feast that was taking place in the ballroom under his feet. "Is there a reason Mitchell is handcuffed to a bed upstairs?"

"Huh?" Aiden was hungry. He could imagine blood flowing down his throat and filling his soul. If he bled, it was almost sure that healing would take the energy right out of him. He was really hoping he wasn't going to be in the hotel when they popped the cork on the first dozen. He had figured he could stash a small vial of wolf blood and lick it till the appetite waned. But he hadn't had time to prepare any and now he felt the temptation ebbing away at his soul.

"Mitchell, my flat mate, is unconscious upstairs and tied to the furniture," She made a few flippant hand gestures then finally said, "This better not be some kind of vampiric sexual experiment. Kinky but not something you should do with—well I **may** think of someone you should do it with but I can't really imagine who right now. So, No. No sex experiments with my flatmate if you _please_."

For a second, Annie reminded Aiden of his own ghost room mate, and he was beginning to imagine Sally's face on Annie's shoulders.

"No. We got into a fight and he wouldn't listen to sense. I'm waiting for him to wake up so I can explain what happened."

"Oh. Is that all?"

"Is 'that all' of what?"

"Is that all of the excuse you can give me as to why my flatmate is **handcuffed** to a bed upstairs!"

Aiden had thought it was a very good excuse. "He attacked me, Annie. And then he attacked the Old Ones. He wasn't about to listen to anything I said."

"That's not like him," she stated firmly. "I'll speak to him"

"But he's –" and Annie sucked herself through the supernatural, disappearing from his view before Aiden could say, "Unconscious."

So Aiden picked himself laboriously up and walked to the hotel's visitor room. The door was propped open and the blinds were tightly shut. Still, a bit of the late morning sunlight splinted through the window and stabbed the dusty room.

Annie was sitting at Mitchell's prone side, her hand gripped hard on his shoulder, her face furrowed with concentration. And Aiden, instead of stating 'I told you so', leaned back on his heel, and propped his shoulder on the door frame. After a few minutes, she trailed her slender fingers along the length of his muscular arm and slipped her hand into his.

To the American's surprise, The British man stirred, fumbled a bit to hold Annie's hand back then tried to roll over from his stomach to his back completely tangled in his arms. Aiden took a very cautious step into the guest room and suspiciously watched the other vampire.

Mitchell's eyes were a bit bloodshot and his face was a pale white, but his mind was sound and he sat more like a gentleman now than any other time Aiden had been in his presence. The two vampires looked at each other quietly for a while, neither quite sure what to do, then finally Mitchell said: "Annie told me what happened."

Aiden didn't know how, but he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He could usually tell when a vampire was lying to him, and anyway, Mitchell didn't seem the type to be able to hide his distaste easily.

"I'm-" he rolled his eyes as if he were contemplating how to formulate words, then finally he said, "I may have been a **bit** hasty to attack you in the car park."

Aiden chuckled, that meant: _I'm sorry_. "You can recognize his scent pretty quickly can't you?"

"He's my best mate," the vampire explained, "I could recognize his scent a block away."

"Oh, don't exaggerate," Aiden fumbled into his jacket for the keys, "You didn't notice till you were ten feet in front of me."

Mitchell smiled, if only to be polite—'_He could recognize when someone was trying to lighten the mood,_' decided Aiden. And the vampire realized that they had some how, finally, become friends.

"Do you want me to take you to him?" Aiden asked, trying to unlock his handcuffs. The keys on his ring rattled, and he was a bit apprehensive of what his shaking hands meant. Aiden had pushed down the hunger, and though he tried to employ this concept of mind-over-mater, it was obvious his body needed something more than a burger to quench his appetite. "He's healing at my apartment."

"Maybe. But I'm going to need something to eat. I can't feel my face."

Aiden apologized. It was likely Aiden's fault any part of Mitchell's injuries were unattended. And when Mitchell wrung his wrists and gingerly touched his bruised nose, Aiden couldn't help but remember his jaw felt like a poker was sticking into his gums. Mitchell was no push-over, and if he had been the same age as Aiden, the match would not have come out with as clear a victor. Fortunately, that was not the case tonight.

"Snow started some of Olfaq's virgin collection. If you want, there should be enough to get sustenance."

"I'm trying not to drink live."

Aiden let out an unexpected 'huh' then said, "at all?"

"If I can help it," though the sad hunger in the other's face clearly screamed that he wanted to. "Anyway, I try not to drink till death."

"There are bleed-volunteers," Aiden thought of finding a donation kit and pouring himself a bleed bag. Most of the volunteers though, had addiction problems or STIs, clean enough to drink but tasted like tar half of the time.

Mitchell made a face, and Aiden didn't blame him. They came to the silent, yet unanimous decision that it was too much of a hassle to get someone from the collection and so they remained in that mutual misery. "If you can wait, breakfast should almost be over. I can send Hettie and Snow back to the guesthouse then there's donated blood at my apartment. It's not vein-hot, but the packets weren't bleed more than two or three weeks ago. You drink donated blood don't you?"

Mitchell seemed to perk at this though he kept his excitement as mild as possible, "I haven't eaten since I got here."

Aiden suddenly felt sorry for ever thinking Mitchell looked like an unfed dog, "**That** explains."

"Mitchell's been sober for three years now," Annie said proudly. Aiden did observe Mitchell blush and he looked sharply at the ghost girl. She didn't notice and said something else about Mitchell and blood addiction.

Aiden didn't ask Mitchell what his dark look had meant; he knew it intimately. And for a second, the American was half relieved that he wasn't the only vampire trying to forsake live blood—and failing. Sure, his average anual murder count had dwindled from half a thousand to less than a dozen. _But 'low deaths' didn't mean 'no deaths'_.

Aiden just gave his counterpart a sympathetic grimace and waited patiently as the guest eased himself back into the hotel bed. "Is he okay?"

"Who?"

"George."

Aiden purposefully avoided saying everything and just stated, "My Roommate's looking after him. Do you remember Josh?" Mitchell looked at him blankly, and Aiden said, "He accompanied us to the Cage."

"Do you mean the werewolf familiar?" He was pleased, "I thought he belonged to the Family."

"No, he's not friends with the family." Then after some consideration, Aiden said: "Actually, it's too bad I didn't have any reason to mention this to you earlier, but I also live with a ghost."

"Sally's really whiny," Annie complained sharply. Aiden allowed himself to laugh at that comment. Mitchell too smiled, then gathered his ghost in his arms before she had the sense to be mad at him.

"So George is really okay?"

"He's alive, and healing nicely at the house. But he's not a hundred percent; he's been resting while you've been unconscious, as far as I know it."

"Thank god."

And when Aiden saw that relief relax the other vampire, the American smirked broadly and got up. "So I'll come back here after I drop off Snow and Hettie. I just hope that two moon waned 'wolves can hold the fort without us protective vampires to guard them."

Mitchell then flushed, and he said 'hey' to avoid talking about his lack of self-control in the parking lot. "Did I mention he's my best mate?" he asked, half jokingly.

Aiden nodded his head calmly and closed the door behind Mitchell and Annie as they cradled each other in the bed. The vampire thought it was a strange combination, but the romantic in him ignored the obvious physical barriers and smiled warmly at the relationship.

Hungry, tired and in serious need of a shower, Aiden swaggered back to the elevator lobby. He was completely unaware of the little Old One as she eve's dropped on their werewolf conversation from behind an open door down the hall.

Only very rarely did Hettie feel the need to prank, and as the wicked grin started to blossom across her porcelain fair skin, she knew now would be the rare occasion she felt the desire to throw herself a party. Almost five hundred years old and she was still a child, after all.


	12. How Much is That Doggie in the Window

**12: How Much is That Doggie in the Window.**

While the werewolves napped away the afternoon, Thom had chosen to release some of his woes and went out to seek comfort away from his alpha. Neither Hope nor Elda would be very pleased with him for wandering away without explanation, but sometimes being with this new pack was just the same as being with his step-dad's pack; werewolves were bound down by too many rules and regulations and the rigidity killed him.

Thom knew the only reason the reserve kept him around the last four years was because Elda felt partially responsible for Thom's condition—and wholly responsible for his mother's shortcomings.

The 'wolf only stayed because he felt he deserved to live with monsters.

_Everyone has conditions._

He thought about Josh again, and took another sip from his warm bourbon. He didn't want to like Josh. When Nora had arrived at the reserve alone, Thom couldn't help but compare her to his mother. The legacy had been furious that her boyfriend wasn't going to be there during her pregnancy. Thom had even said so.

But bringing it up insulted her, and Nora defended her boyfriend fiercely. Perhaps it was that devotion that made Thom so thoroughly convinced that Josh was pathetic, irresponsible and uncaring. He had seen it growing up, and he had learned to associate it with abuse. And it was this fabrication that Thom clung on to tightly.

Some selfish part of him wanted Nora to be lonely and abandoned by the orderly because it made him feel better about himself. Thom had partially hoped that he could confront a monster as hideous as his own father and finally bring some fraction of peace to his life.

The fact that Josh was actually a very loving man made the 'wolf-born hotly frustrated.

The disappointment alone made Thom shrink back down into that familiar thickened blackness that came with the feeling of being cast aside and abandoned. He hated knowing that the stock he came from hadn't even the fraction of loyalty or honor that was within Josh.

Thom nursed his drink and his cigarette for an hour. The club was noisy, crowded and dark for it being barely 4-o'-clock in the evening. And the din reminded him of his life with Hope and Elda.

In his step-father's pack, he had been a top dog; It was for that very reason his step' converted him in the first place. But the blood on the reserve was hot and powerful, and after he was taken in by his grandmother and Ma'ma, he quickly realized that his 'wolf status was almost pathetic among them.

Hope and Elda, even as legacies, were of strong blood and the supernatural instinct in him cowed like an animal under their power. To compound that, being the only man in a company of dominant females was sorely trying at times.

In a way, he was kind of jealous of George's relationship with Annie. She loved him enough to be visible to a supernatural deadbeat like Thom, even if it was for just a second. And not for the first time since as long as he could remember, he felt completely alone.

"Buy you a drink stranger?" Thom checked to see if the man really meant to be speaking to him.

He was an olive skinned creature with curly brown hair and black twinkling feminine eyes. Not really Thom's type, but he wasn't hard to look at. So the werewolf shrugged, then kicked back to look him over more critically. The stranger was very small.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," and Thom doubted it. But there was something familiar about him and the werewolf couldn't quite place it.

"You are very handsome, kid. But, um, I'm not exactly the **good** kind of company."

"Oh please, I've been watching you since you got here and I know for a fact that you are a lot more than you seem. I just want to get to know you better. The you that's not angry and bitter and mopey all the time. And maybe you can get to know me."

"Not-," Thom squinted again, sure that he could recognize the stranger if he tried, "Not that good of an idea."

"Not good ideas involve you sneaking out of the motel when Alda and Hope are asleep just to go to a bar."

This time Thom jerked out of his seat, nearly knocking the tall chair to the floor. The boy rocked back giggling on his bar stool.

"Who are you?"

"Chill, wolf-boy. I'm a friend." and he held up his slender hands then said, "It's okay."

Thom frowned then blurted, "**Sally**?"

"Ta da!" Sally scratched the young boy's face and then pat his hand on the seat of Thom's barstool. "Now you may sit down."

"Are you-" Thom was completely flabbergasted. "Are you possessing a body?" He realized that was kind of a stupid question: of course she was possessing someone else's body, then decided to ask, "Whose body are you wearing? Are you actually a boy?"

"No, no. Original me is 100% woman. But there are no 100% women in here so I just took one that liked you. He's one of the college kids on the back corner table. All of whom, by the way, have been checking you out since you sat at the counter." The ghost chuckled, "Drunk as this guy is, I'm pretty sure that this seat, is exactly where he wants to be right now."

Thom flushed with anger and Sally made an insensitive comment about how he looked cute when he blushed.

"That's wrong, Sally. A ghost can't just walk into someone else's body and run it without his permission."

"I know," she seemed distant for a moment, and he got the sense he may have hit a nerve, "Trust me, I'm the last person you need to lecture about the moral ambiguities of joyriding other people's meat." Sally reached out the boy's hand and touched the back of the wolf's knuckles and Thom shuddered pleasantly at the contact. "But I had to make sure you knew I was here for you."

Thom let Sally ease him back into his seat.

Sally's soul was seen through the College Kid's pupils. It was the same soul that Thom could feel in the house of the hosts, and the same soul he felt when he knew she was speaking or listening. For the first time since arriving, that ache in his heart suddenly was washed over in a wave of relief. He now knew completely that she had been listening and speaking to him all this time, even when he couldn't hear her. "I already knew that."

"You thought you knew that, but there was always doubt. Like, you're always wondering if I'm there when you talk. I know. I've heard you."

Thom laughed quietly then tried to shut out the sudden swell of weakness. He cast his eyes nervously over Sally's shoulder to College's table. They were a mixed collection of boys all staring wide eyed as their classmate hit on the lone wolf at the bar counter. Their expressions of jaw dropping respect made Thom suddenly uncomfortable. "You should get out of this body before he does something he regrets."

"I will," Sally said, standing up. He put his hand on Thom's shoulder and smiled. "But like I said, I wanted to make sure you knew."

And he descended from where he stood, and gave the lonely soul a sweet, knowing kiss. Thom connected then, soul to soul, with Sally and with her life. Pressed against him and touching for the first time. He felt Sally break and move away as the spirit lifted from the body.

That kiss changed in the moment, and Sally's soul no longer was anchored in the physical realm. And though still warm and pleasant, the emotional connection was lost in the kiss. College was absorbed in the pleasure for a second before taking a halting step back to access what he was doing. Sally was right, the kid was beyond drunk, he had likely been blacking out all day and Thom felt a sudden pang of remorse for having taken advantage of his innocence.

"I'm sorry," Thom started, deeply concerned for the College Kid's self esteem.

College's face instantly turned a hot shade of red with embarrassment and stammered, "Oh, oh no._ I'm_ so sorry. I –" and he covered his face, "I really don't know what got in to me."

Partially flattered, and partially amused, and largely glad he had not harmed the boy, Thom let crack a rare, unbridled grin and College lost his trail of thought again.

"I mean. You're so hot." And he ran off before he finished explaining himself. College threw his eyes back longingly toward the tall werewolf before ducking into his booth of buddies where he continued to blush proudly for the rest of the night.

Thom tried but couldn't drop his smile when College's friends took turns congratulating him heartily and feeding him more shots. So Thom let the boy fill in his own gaps, and ordered another drink, put it in the seat next to him, then tinked it cheers.

"Thanks, Sally."

And on the glass, the words, "it's okay" traced itself on the thin condensation.

And a smiley face.

- - - -{_Elsewhere_}- - - -

"I think I owe you an apology," Mitchell started awkwardly as the driver tucked his cell phone into his pants pocket. Aiden turned out of the hotel's parking lot trying not to take his eyes off of the road and to keep that empty pit in his stomach out of mind for the drive back to the house.

"I thought you already gave me an apology an hour ago," the vampire replied. "I get it: you thought you were protecting George. If Josh were in that kind of trouble, I may not have thought twice about taking your head off either."

"Not about that," Mitchell cut in quickly, "I thought you were just another one in the mill that would do anything to get at the head of the Family. I didn't like the person I made you out to be and so I was rude and disrespectful and I was mistaken. And for that I'm really sorry."

Aiden pressed the line of his lips to force back a broad smirk, "You know, you surprised me too."

Mitchell nodded, then having said what he needed to, went back to looking out of the window as they head toward Aiden's apartment. "So we're cool?"

"Yeah, we're cool."

- - - -{_At the Haunt_}- - - -

"That was Aiden. He's on the way home," Josh put out the bandages in neat rows on the coffee table, and George hobbled down the last flight of the stairs. "He's bringing Mitchell with him. And he should be here soon. Food is in the fridge, and you have to unplug the microwave to use the kettle boiler." Josh shoved his phone into his pocket and then looked around as if there were other words of wisdom he needed to pass on before he left the haunt. "Oh, and don't use the red mug, Aiden warms his breakfast there. Smells like blood all of the time."

"I'm sure I'll manage till Aiden gets back." George experimented with stepping without support, "I already feel ridiculously useless as it is."

"Should be soon," assured Josh. He was about to run up the stairs to get a pair of socks, but he wasn't even three steps up when doorbell rang. George and Josh exchanged looks; Neither were expecting guests. Josh scuttled to the front door and peered out of the peep hole. "Huh."

"Who is it?"

Josh opened the door and Sally walked in. The Jewish orderly followed her with his eyes for a moment then turned his attention to the other guest.

"Thom. What are **you** doing here? Are Hope and Alda coming?"

"No. Just me," The tall wolfblood said, he shoved his hands into his pockets. He smelled like smoke and alcohol. "I came to check in on George."

"Don't need any help from psychopath killers, thanks!" sang the British guest hobbling to the front door.

But Josh invited the 'wolf in anyway.

Sally crossed her arms over her chest and said to the boys: "Be nice. Thom's here to apologize."

"Apologize?" George repeated, looking at the little ghost. "For what?"

"I wanted to apologize for Hope and Alda. They mean well, but sometimes they can be quite persistent," Thom stood at the vestibule uncomfortably. He looked around and only settled when George said Annie was not there with them. "And I know sometimes I have a temper."

Josh made a sarcastic face but Sally glared at him and he didn't say anything.

"I wanted to also warn you. The Reserve may not be interested in bringing the end of the world, but some the folks on the reserve still contact packs that do. So if you do go to Canton, you'll be isolated to minimize risk."

George's heart sank. He was just beginning to warm up to the idea of following the trio back to New Mexico. He had stood on the fence for the most part and with just one breath, he suddenly felt himself clawing back to the comfort of the home he knew.

The hardest hurdle would have been cutting himself off from his friends, Mitchell and Annie. Now he finds he may have to cut himself off from everyone. "Why are you telling me this?"

The punk shrugged and rolled his eyes as if he was 'too cool' to answer, but Sally just made an encouraging quip that both of the werewolves who could see her gawked at.

As if he had heard her, Thom thought about it, swallowed as if words were a difficulty then finally said: "Because you have a good life and a network of people that would miss you if you disappeared. Anyone that lucky **doesn't** deserve to live trapped like an animal."

George regarded the other werewolf strangely then just sighed. Thom looked at obvious ends with himself. And despite his better judgment, he decided to open some warmth to the creature anyway, "You're not normal- The way you were at the hotel. Are you…" he struggled to find a word and settled with "_infected_?"

Josh made a triumphant sound, since he had also settled on the same word a week ago, but Sally gave him a sharp glare and he stood there feeling smug.

Thom rocked a bit uncomfortably where he stood, his hands were deep into his pockets and he appeared to be measuring the pros and cons of this conversation in his head before saying: "My stepfather turned me when I was eight. On purpose. In front of my mother. " he looked as awkward as he sounded, "She's a legacy. So I have 'wolf blood in me."

"So," George furrowed his brow as he thought, "You **are** a werewolf then?"

"Not anymore."

Josh's breath hitched loudly when he finally comprehended what that actually meant. "So you —"

The door knocked again, and all four in the room exchanged glances. "That can't be Aiden and Mitchell already?"

"I'll get it," and George hobbled excitedly toward the door, only tripping once.

The front door swung open and the look of gleeful anticipation on George's face was instantly swallowed by shock.

Olfaq grinned, "Hi." Faster than George could take a step deeper into the safety of the house the vampire's hands shot in, his knuckles instantly swelled with what looked like a burn or a rash. He didn't linger uninvited for long before he tore the British guest out the door and George scraped painfully down the short flight of concrete steps leading to the sidewalk.

"Oh my gosh," Josh dropped his work bag then scrambled to the entrance. But before he could even breathe, a girl no older than Hope stepped through.

She made a face at the smell of dogs, and then looked at the remaining three occupants before smiling. "Do you mind if I let myself in?"

Josh didn't even have time to demand to know who she was: her eyes filled like ink and she dropped a pair of fangs and for a second, Josh could have sworn she unhinged her jaw.

Thom flew over the sofa and pulled the home owner away while the child relished in Josh's paralyzing fear. She snapped playfully at the werewolf pair as they scrambled into the kitchen. That was when the uninvited guest started to sing children's rhymes.

"She's a vampire!"

Thom scrounged through the drawers for something to defend himself with. The first thing he found was a butter knife and he took it then said to Josh, "Grab a weapon!"

"How did she make it inside my house? We didn't invite her! Why isn't she exploding?"

And Thom, took a deep breath then forced the dull knife into the palm of his hand. Twice.

Sally had materialized away. For some reason, watching the wolves fight in the hotel was much more bearable than watching them fight in her own home. Her disappearance entertained the little vampire and Hettie played a short game of hide and seek. One other vampire entered the premise, but he looked flushed, uncomfortable and apprehensive.

"They are Old Ones."

Josh frantically followed suit and grabbed the first solid thing he could find: it happened to be a wooden spoon. He didn't seem to notice that his weapon had a rounded edge.

"They develop an immunity to invitations after a while," and Thom crouched behind the kitchen door. Hettie was knocking on the entrance of the storage space under the stairs. Sally whimpered, but a single sniff, and the vampire lost interest in the ghost. "She's coming this way. Get out the back."

"The back door doesn't open!"

Thom looked at Josh irritably, "You know that's a fire hazard?"

"Funny," Josh replied miserably. He watched as Hettie approached the kitchen and really wished he and Aiden had un-jammed the back door like they always said they would. Josh put it on the top of the mental to-do-list.

The Vampire that was Hettie, was a petite creature, even for a vampire. Her long, smooth brown hair added to her ghostly posture and her blushed rosy cheeks just accented how pale the rest of her skin was. When she walked, her light blue dress swayed with her slow, deliberate steps- she really didn't seem to be in any hurry. "Well what do we do? Little creepy undead British girl is headed straight for us."

"Of all the horrifying ways you could describe that fang with, you pick 'British girl'?" For a moment, Thom's expression looked oddly like Aiden's, and the werewolf allowed himself a second's break from the ensuing chaos to do a double take. "Really?"

"Just F.Y.I., those creepy movies with possessed little girls who stagger around speaking with accents are the worst kind of horror for me! I have developed a trauma to it!"

"Okay, well then when creepy little _**vampire **_girl gets to the door, the both of us shove hard then run right through the window."

"Window?" Josh's shrill made Thom cringe, "Why not the front door?"

"Fine: the front door," The hunter was not in the mood to make it more elaborate, since his seconds were getting alarmingly slim, "ready?"

"Don't we get a sign?"

"For the love of –" Thom wanted to stake Josh more than he wanted to bleed the vampire in front of him. But his threat was cut off when Sally's shrilled ghost scream pierced through the entire house and the entire apartment began to rock in fear. It was accompanied by the howling cries of the other vampire that had intruded. Hettie whipped about, surprised stocked by the image of her underling as his arms began to smoke under a spreading black infection.

"**GO**!" and Thom led the way, bursting through the kitchen's flimsy swinging doors. Josh followed close behind him.

Hettie whipped about when Thom sped past her, straight for the window. And she gathered enough sense to coil up and grab Josh by the tail of his shirt. She leaped backward and Josh slipped on the carpet and landed head first on the living room floor.

Hettie's assistant was trying to brush off the bits of dry wall as if the house itself burned into his skin like acid. "It's 'wolf's blood!" the accompanying vampire squalled. He sounded as if he had just come from off of a ship straight from Dublin. "They have fuckin' werewolf blood embedded in their walls."

Josh would later appreciate the practicality of this application. Right then, he was too busy trying to scramble into the closet area with Sally. But Hettie grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him back, her surprising strength seemed ungodly for her appearance The burning vampire reached out his half acid eaten arm to grab at the ghost and Sally screamed again when he clawed at her gray cardigan.

Not quite knowing _how_ Sally was being assaulted by the strangers (and not quite so much caring to find out at this exact moment) Josh tried to reach the closet again. Hettie started to giggle like a child before Thom barreled into her, smacking her face with his blood soaked fist. It left a dark black mark over her pale sick skin and the little terror glared at Thom in seething anger.

"Didn't sense werewolf off of you earlier. But it is in you, _isn't it_?"

"Why does everyone like to keep telling me I have 'wolf blood in me as if I don't know that already?" And Thom tried to sneak in another hit before Hettie realized he was coming.

But the vampire was experienced, and she hadn't needed to move while she thought the wolves were helpless in their human state. For the most part, she was proven right about George and Josh. But the little Old One could recognize a pack hunter when she saw one. She wasted no time, and drove her sharp fist down hard on the back of his open neck. Thom swore he heard his skull break before he hit the ground unconscious.

George had made it to the door and tried to pull the Irish vampire off of the little stowage closet. The burning intruder took a powerful swing toward Josh and completely instinctively the 'wolf swung out. The wooden spoon smacked hard into the other vampire's face; so hard it snapped at the hilt and a raw red streak traced a line on the palm of Josh's hand.

Enraged, and his face completely flaring up in vampire ire, the stranger leaped forward and Josh stabbed toward him with the broken handle. Hettie recognized a stake and intervened. And Josh was then face to face with a very upset little British bloodsucker.

"I'm bored now." And she grabbed Josh by the thick of his neck.

The pain was blinding and Josh thought he felt his trachea collapse under her vice. He clawed at her grip, monstrously strong for her size, and tried to push down the idea that he could not swallow. He could not breathe, he could not cough. He could not breathe, and he could not escape.

Hettie held down Josh's throat tighter, then said to her companion. "Forget that ghost. Just bring the half werewolf out to the others."

"Sally," Josh had to make sure she was okay. Hettie didn't like his gurgle and clamped down harder still. The 'wolf hadn't taken a breath since Thom had hit Hettie off of his back and now his lungs clawed at his chest in a desperate plea for air. He swung out. With every second that passed, Hettie's grip grew stronger and the world around him grew brighter.

Then at last, the pain in his chest ebbed. It was as if his lungs had decided to completely, and happily, give up.

"This dog's a fighter," said Hattie. It was the last thing he heard before Josh he completely blacked out.

* * *

AN: Yeah, sorry folks. I was on vacation overseas! I started watching Season 3 of the US version. =} I really love this show.


	13. For the Love of Entertaiment

**Chapter 13: For the Love of Entertaiment.**

Hope woke up from her nap with a jarring start. Her face trained on the north-west wall of their small motel room. Her senses were burning, her blue eyes fixed fiercely forward. Even though she woke, she didn't know what caused her supernatural senses to light up.

The girl perked her ears, sifted out the sounds of the highway, blocked out the subway, and listened through the little ticking-dripping-scraping noises. She trained each part of her very being to find the disturbance. She took a deep, calculating breath in.

Then she knew: "Thom."

Hope was to her feet as if she had levitated out of the bed by herself. She kicked off her bunny bed-slippers and reached out for her faded sweater and her hunting knife. Some time during the din, Elda had awakened. The old woman was instantly alert and she reached over for her own knife on the bedside table.

"What's wrong, Hope?" but even before the tween replied, Elda already knew what to expect.

"Something has happened to Thomas," said the little wolf girl, shoving her feet into her boots. "Let's go."

Elda wasted no time to run out of the lodgings, and they picked the first car that was available. The sun was low in the sky, but the night was far away yet. Despite the time, the moon (three quarters full) swelled low on the sunset sky. It was a bright and broken white disk among clouds of sunset red-orange.

_A storm was coming._

With the experience of ages, Elda swept her knitting needles deep into the locks and starters of the icy blue Lincoln Town. Despite its age, the car roared to life, black smoke hissing out of its teeth. Hope crammed herself into the car and only managed to close the door after the old legacy pulled out of the parking spot.

"Can you feel him?" Hope asked as she threw open the glove compartment. Empty bottles of energy shots tumbled out and the little 'wolf rolled her eyes. She pushed away the paper napkins, plastic bottles and CD's without cases before she finally found the car's registry. She flipped through it, before handing the whole file to Elda.

The old woman only needed to glance at it before she gave it back to Hope. "We should be good for a few hours."

"Ditch the car before we reach the Cage."

"You sure?"

"I don't want—" she looked at the registration again, "-the Carlson's to have any run-ins with unwanted fangs. Just let them think someone took their car for a joyride."

Elda didn't question the child on that matter, instead she said: "I meant are you sure we're going to the Cage."

"It's the only place that I can think of."

"The hotel?"

"Too far north." Then she pointed down an alley, "Oh wait, no, that one." And obediently Elda turned. Once they were on the main roads, they couldn't make much faster progress though most of the evening rush was going the opposite way from them. The closer to the city end they reached, the less the old werewolf needed Hope's instructions.

Elda could feel the pull of her pack as if the very car itself was driving. Ten minutes later she could almost smell Thom's spirit.

Beside the driver, Hope was getting battle-lusty and the old 'wolf recognized the eminent beginning of a bloodhunt. Being a legacy hunter herself, Elda knew exactly what the little girl was feeling; puberty and hunger was almost always volatile mix for a 'wolf blood.

Hope was twice warrior born, and Elda knew she will be the strongest hunter ever to have belonged to the Reserve, even if she were just a legacy. And not for the first time, Elda shuddered to think what Hope could have been as a purebred.

_Maybe this is scarier._

"The traffic is bad here," Elda nodded, as the weekend rush started to flow in their direction.

"Can you run?"

"Will you carry me?" Elda chuckled, then she pulled the car to a stop at a shopping mall. "Hope, lock the door."

And the little girl opened the door to lock it from the inside, "go."

They ran the last three city blocks to the Cage's public entrance. Elda breathing cleanly through her teeth, siphoned the werewolf out of Hope's spirit.

_- - - -{Elsewhere}- - - -_

"Where are they?"

Olfaq seemed to find the fist in his face funny, for he started to cackle when Mitchell's hand drew from the butler's jaw with a string of black vampire blood. "Oh. Stop, I can't breathe," and he laughed harder.

"I can still smell his blood on your hands!" Mitchell threw the vampire across the room. Aiden caught him before he could gather his wits and propped him roughly to his standing position. Immediately, Mitchell hit the vampire again.

"I would consider telling the good man," Aiden allowed a ghost of a smile to fleck through his fangs. His voice reflected the sound a business man makes when he talks to a potential client but the twinkle in his eyes conveyed that Aiden was supremely satisfied with watching his companion smack around the little entertainment guide about for breaking into his house and kidnapping their friends. "I think he's impatient."

Sally crossed her arms over her body, mostly to cover her half exposed chest since the cold werewolf ring felt filthy and exposure to it made her supernatural skin sweat. She clamped her jaw tightly when the butler rolled his deep soaked eyes under his fluttering lids. He turned his features to the ghosts.

Annie was glaring unhappily. She had looked at the Hotel, then at the safe house, then to the pens. She knew he was here, but not where.

"O-oh," sang the vampire, "All the pretty wolves. I wonder where I should hide mine."

"In the Cage?"

"How uncreative," Mitchell grumbled, and Olfaq snapped at him. The vampire king decided to spit on him for laughing.

"Sally, go check the pens again."

"Sally don't." Olfaq laughed. But the ghosts just glared at him, and disappeared together.

"You're sick," Aiden stated, calmly.

"You're just upset you can't call mommy for help."

"And you think this will be something she approves of?" This time Aiden did laugh, and that made the butler visibly uncomfortable. "Oh, you are going to be in so much trouble."

"I have a back up plan." The man retorted. "And Mother's not as important as she thinks she is."

Aiden's eyes narrowed, "What have you done?"

But Mitchell knew, "He made a pact with Snow."

The American swallowed back a curse then resisted the urge to tear out the captive's heart. But he knew better; he knew Snow – and he knew it was almost impossible to resist any offer the ancient man presented. He knew the way to every vampire's darkest desires. And he knew his way to the corners he wanted to be in. "Scum."

"So the Old Ones know they're here?" Mitchell's question sounded a lot like a statement.

"They want them here. He doesn't know why we don't fight them. Come, what is more entertaining than watching two of your best friends fight to the death? They wanted a show: well, we're going to have one."

"Mother wouldn't."

"Okay, well Mother doesn't know. But she's just one vampire."

Aiden almost snapped the defiant butler's vampire neck. Then a cell phone rang and they all halted in their tracks.

"Oh. Sorry," Olfaq giggled, "That's mine."

_- - - -{Elsewhere}- - - -_

Hope found the wolves first, caged individually at a corner room in the storage area. Other wolves were clamoring for help, but Elda and Hope stayed focus. The old woman was fumbling with Thom's lock while Hope circled the edges of the room, taking everything in.

"Where is the Evebringer?"

Thom sniffed, and replied, "we were split up when we arrived. George and Josh should be here somewhere."

"We need to get him," thought Elda trying another lock pick. "If these fangs get him first…"

"We don't know if they've identified him yet. It could be his relationship to that other vampire that they are interested in." And Hope then turned to her companions, "We should leave him here and re-group. The moon is next week, in four days we'll be strong enough to wake the others potential."

Before either could say anything about the matter, the door to the pen swung open and chaos erupted from the room. Hope spun about with her teeth bared. She wasn't expecting what she saw, a brown haired child of ten, grinning broadly at the little werewolf.

"A puppy?" Hettie seemed happy, "Oh how sweet." And she tore out her fangs. Before Hope had a chance to react, the Old One's bloodlust flared and the girls broke out into a fight. Hope scratched Hettie across the forearm and was then smacked across the jaw. She fell into a cage and hands held her tightly as if she could pull them through the bars.

Elda had at some point, gotten up to attack but Hettie dispatched her quickly, the old woman flying into the little vampire's escorts. The Old One that had invaded the apartment grabbed her and kicked her hard into a silver cage. Elda was a warrior, but she was still old, and she was subdue quickly. This was why she stayed behind when Hope and Thom went on the missions with old fangs.

"Ma," Thom threw his body against his cage, he flashed his teeth and he wished he could call upon his wolf to dismember the assailant. "Hey deadbeat. Let me out and I'll show you real entertainment."

"Let me go," Hope snarled, and instantly all the werewolves complied. She leapt to her feet, but the moment was all Hettie needed to take the upper hand. And before there could be anything said, Hettie was beating the little red-head's face in with a broken silver chain.

"I'll rip out your throat!" Thom roared, his voice grating hard. And he threw his whole being against the bars every time Hettie's whip crashed into Hope's little body. The Legacy wasn't moving, she was barely breathing and she looked at her pack brother with the eye that was not bloody and swollen.

'_Don't worry, Thom_.' And he swallowed back the fear, and he let her carry his responsibility. Of course she had it under control. And he felt useless. And he barked loudly, slamming his chest against the bars one last time.

"Put down that old dog. I want to play with this one," and the vampire indicated to the trio. Hope tried not to look worried when they pulled her up the hall of the pens into the office. And Elda was dragged out of the pens to the back of the room, so she could be shot.

"So what are you going to do now, without your precious alpha?" Dublin sneered, glaring at Thom with his deepened black eyes. "Especially now that I get to shoot her," the barrel of the gun was pressed up against the old wolf's face.

"The alpha will manage," Thom replied. "It's my grandmother you should worry about."

And Elda grinned.

It all happened so fast, Dublin didn't know what to think, and he pulled the trigger letting the silver death fly from its barrel.

_- - - -{Office}- - - -_

Olfaq led the intruder to the Cage's office where they came face to face with Hettie holding Hope at the end of a leash.

Aiden's knee jerk reaction was to arm up and snap the silver chain, but Hope stared at him through fiery eyes as if there was something in her that couldn't change—it was the stubborn determination and the telling glare that said, '_don't give it up._'

_His façade. _

They couldn't know they were friends. So Aiden backed away and glared at Hettie, "What are you doing to this girl, Madam Hettie. Can't you see she's just a child?"

"Can't **you** see she's a werewolf," Hettie laughed, "We've been here two days and the only thing we've done was drink virgins. I'm really bored."

"You want to play?"

Hettie yanked the silver chain and Hope visibly cringed. Marks like brands tore across her skin, and the mud from the pen floor smeared into her open wounds. They were hot and broken, but still she knelt defiantly.

"Don't you?"

Aiden looked down on the werewolf apologetically, then said: "What did you have in mind?"

"I want to see this one suffer. I haven't had a playmate in a while. And she's oh so cute and young…"

"Wolf upon wolf, next week…" Aiden stepped away from behind Olfaq and said, "Don't you want to watch them all change."

"We can spare a few," grinned the butler, "For a pregame, that is." Aiden gave Olfaq a mean glare and the old butler relished in the idea that he could be a better influence to the old ones than Aiden was. "Why not use her as a prize?"

"That doesn't sound fun," Hettie looked down unhappily at the girl and Hope snarled.

"Just think of this: There are twenty one wolves in the cage from the last moon. They don't actually know what they are. If we tell some of them, say five or six, that they can earn their freedom from us by killing this little… anomaly, then we'll let whoever wins go free. And they won't even know they will turn. It'll be chaos in the city the next day. But they have to kill her. In the Maze. No weapons."

"And we get to watch it all?" Hettie did contemplate this. "Sounds different…"

"I do not recommend it," started Aiden.

"Let's do it." Hope interrupted loudly, "I agree. I agree. And if I survive, I get to go."

"You won't survive," cautioned Aiden trying to get the 'wolf girl to back down.

Aiden's instant discouragement of the little arrangement obviously meant that the idea appealed to the little Old One even more. "Can we even convince them to kill a little girl?"

"I can compel a few of them to."

"Very well, choose some and we'll play tonight."

"On one condition!" Hope leapt to her feet, and said, "Thom will participate and if they kill me, they go free."

Hettie looked suspiciously around then tried to choose whether to smile or frown, "Are you planning on sacrificing yourself for your pack? What they say about American werewolves must be so true."

"Let them participate," Hope narrowed her eyes at the little monster, the defiance in every part of her spirit strong. Despite how broken her body was.

Hettie made a funny face then as if she didn't care, said, "alright."

"This is a mistake," Aiden said haughtily.

"A mistake, Mr. Waite," the little vampire sang, "was leaving John Mitchell alone with my emissary." She picked at her nails, "I would hate to think of what would happen to your poor house pets if Mr. Snow managed to flatter your man."

"Mother won't stand for assassins."

"Assassins? Is that what you think is going on here?" Hettie laughed honestly. "Please. You don't really think Mr. Snow is as petty to hire thugs just to get ahead of some... social club? I wouldn't worry about his _plans_ if I were you."

And all of a sudden, Aiden worried.


	14. The Labyrinth Arena

**Chapter 14: The Labyrinth Arena**

Sally and Annie ghost through the halls together, spending two or three minutes in each room to check the faces of every 'wolf in the cages. Annie was faster than Sally, her skill as a ghost was a bit more honed than the American's. But as long as she left some dust, the other girl had little trouble catching up. Sally understood it now- she understood that the British girl's devotion to her housemates was different from how Sally felt toward Josh and Aiden. It was obvious that Annie thought of George as a brother. It was also obvious that Annie thought of Mitchell as a lover.

The latter was a topic that Sally sorely wanted to ask Annie about. Foremost, how is it a non-corporeal individual could be in a relationship with someone she couldn't touch, or hold? If it was possible for a ghost and a vampire, maybe it was possible for Sally and a werewolf.

_'A question only pertinent assuming we can find the werewolves in the first place,'_ thought Sally suddenly.

She then realized that her werewolf of interested couldn't see her or hear her, and that put an even colder dampener on this fantasy arrangement. They ghost into one of the last pens and instantly came face to face with Thom, slumped in the corner of his pen with his arms crossed over his chest looking unhappy. Blood littered the floors of the already filthy room and Annie panicked. "What is he doing here?" the British ghost jerked.

The other few wolves, maybe mostly new, started getting fidgety when the two ghosts suddenly materialized in the place where the fight had recently ended. Those not familiar with ghosts started whimpering. Others made unpleasant faces.

"Thom?" Sally started, equally surprised to see him alone in the vampire cages. "Shit, he can't hear us..."

But the wolf had pricked his ears up and listened again. He must have taken the cues from the other werewolves, their fear still heightened from the battle between the legacies and their captors. "Sally?"

"You can see us?"

He concentrated as if her voice was far away despite the fact that she was touching the silver bars of his cage.

"I can't see you. No, but I think I can hear you."

"Don't speak to them!" someone from another pen hissed, "They'll bring more of those other monsters here. And I want to get out."

Thom gave the old man a sharp glare then scanned the room for signs of the ghosts, "Is Annie with you?"

("I said don't speak to them!")

"Yeah, she's here. How can you hear me? Not that I'm complaining, or anything," Sally and Annie crouched by his cage and he inched closer to them till he was nose to nose with the girls.

"I'm coming down from a battle lust, I think. Don't whisper, you're not very clear."

"Sorry!" then Sally and Annie jerked when the old man hissed them to be quiet. "Aiden and Mitchell are trying to get Josh and George out of here. We can tell them where you are and get you out too."

"Hope has me covered; you don't need to worry about me." He pressed his body against the bars and strained to listen, "Where is George?"

"Could ask you the same question," stated Annie glumly.

Thom didn't seem to understand so Sally said, "We were just looking for him too. I didn't think you would be separated after the way they took you. Olfaq isn't telling us anything. That and we have another problem."

"Don't you guys have enough problems?" groaned Thom unpleasantly.

"If I could have told you earlier I would have. But it's possible that Mitchell is under the influence of Snow, and that we have to stop him from killing someone in the family."

"Oh, right," the werewolf rolled his eyes as if this were a casual event, "Of course: It's not a complete drama without crown battles."

"This is not a joke, Thom. If Aiden can't protect the family, Josh and I are going to be screwed. And if Mitchell doesn't complete his objective, then George and Annie are screwed."

"What am I to do about it?" Thom responded, though with much less venom than his normal retorts usually contained. "Has Fangs tried finding out who the target is?"

"Yeah, and we have no idea..."

"Well if Mitchell has not made a move yet, and it's already three weeks after his arrival, I'm willing to bet it's someone who is planning on being here, but isn't yet."

"Another **Old** visitor?" Annie asked, looking at Sally. The other shrugged, and admitted it's possible. "Who else is planning on attending the entertainment next week?"

Sally thought of it then said, "Aiden didn't mention many, but he did say that the only vampire who was equivalent to Snow would be some big-shot from the Myan days."

"Indian?"

"Native American," growled Sally, still striving to be politically correct. Then something dawned on her, "Come to think of it, a few weeks ago Mother had me in her office and I saw a letter addressed to _the Great One_."

"The Great One?" Thom repeated, his eyes narrowing deeply. "Really?" Then under his breath he snorted, "I get it: _'Mother'_..."

"Yeah, do you think that maybe that's his name? If Mother is willing to spend the time and be on written-correspondence-terms with this Great guy, then he must be important."

Thom didn't respond and instead started scrambling around his cage looking with renewed enthusiasm for a way to escape his enclosure. Annie took this as a good sign. "We can tell Aiden who to watch when it comes to the time."

"Sally," the punk 'wolf inturrupted, "where is Mother's office?"

Sally balked, she tried to gage what expression was on Thoms face, but he wasn't even looking in her general direction. So she said: "Back at the Halloway Hotel. On the third floor. Why?"

"Right." Thom looked disappointed for a second then just shook his head. He grabbed the bars and looked seriously toward the space in the pen, "Listen to me: Hope has us under control. Don't worry about me. You need to find and free George and Josh. As ghosts, all you need to do is lock on to something that is spiritually anchored to them, and then the supernatural will lead you the rest of the way."

"Oh, I can do that!" Annie swallowed her excitement when she realized this wasn't the time or place to express happiness. Then she soberly asked, "What are you planning on doing?"

When he didn't hear her, Annie decided to focus her energy on finding George and crunched her brow as she stood in the middle of the pen, her whole being shaking with concentration. There, Annie was left alone to find the werewolves with her supernatural senses. So Sally repeated the question and Thom just shook his head.

"I think I'm losing my blood lust both of you are getting hard to hear. Sally, if I can't get out of here after all, I need you to do me a favor."

"We'll get you out," Sally insisted, suddenly realizing she should be worried.

"Promise you'll do this for me anyway. Pass a message on to Hope for me as soon as you see her. Say: 'Alda went ahead. She should meet us again when we're done here.'."

Sally waited, "Is that **all**?"

"It's very important Sally."

In the background somewhere, Annie said she had found them.

"Okay okay." Sally wrapped her ghost fingers around his bloody hands and said: "I'll do that."

Thom looked confused for a moment and he searched for her again. When she repeated the promise, and he didn't respond again, she knew he couldn't hear here anymore.

"I trust you," he added to the empty space.

"I won't let you down." Then Sally took Annie's hand and looked sadly at the caged werewolf. He didn't say anything to her so Annie took them off in the blink of an eye.

After a minute, the grouchy old man grumbled: "They're gone now."

Thom pressed his lips together, a little disappointed. Then he said: "Yeah. I know."

It was then, the dark and impressive silhouette of the entertainment guild filled the front door. All the wolves cowered, but for some reason, Thomas couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, if it isn't the 'butler'."

_- - - -{Elsewhere}- - - -_

Josh and George paced in identical circles around their luxurious vaulted room. The silver handle was bolted in from the outside, and there were no windows. There couldn't be any windows, since they were three stories underground. Despite being there for hours, they hadn't even touched the snacks in the mini fridge. The two 'wolves were effectively prisoners in a gold plated bedroom.

"At least it's better than the first accommodations they had me in," noted George with a shrug. Josh and he exchanged looks then resumed their pattern around the carpet. Both of them jerked when Sally and Annie appeared at the front door.

"George!" Annie flew to the werewolf's side and swallowed him in a warm and protective embrace. Sally and Josh looked at them for a moment in shock before Sally tried to wave her hands on Josh' shoulder. The young man looked visibly violated and he shuddered as her being passed through his blood stream.

"You're going to have to teach me how you do that," Sally said to Annie when she finally disconnected from the captive. "And how is it those vampires at the house could touch me. I'm dead. No touching."

"It's got something to do with confidence and supernatural strength, or something," And Annie didn't elaborate. Sally didn't suspect she knew the details herself. So she didn't pursue the issue.

_Must be nice to touch and be touched._

"We've got to get you out of here." Sally said, "Olfaq wants to fight the two of you next week."

Josh made a jaded expression, but this news shocked George. He'd never been to the Cage, and he assumed the worst. "Where's Mitchell?"

"Beating the snot out of Olfaq, last we saw him," Annie looked reluctant to leave George again, so Sally volunteered. She disappeared in a cloud of ghost, and Annie stood adamantly by George's side.

"You should have gone with her."

"Yeah," Annie had thought the same thing and she looked woefully at her roommate.

"I'll be fine. What kind of trouble can I get into in a fancy four-star crypt?" George shrugged.

Annie gave his hand a squeeze and then blinked out of sight. Josh and George didn't know what to do from there, but the hope was already filling in and the British man decided he could relax enough to at least sit down. Then Josh suddenly realized, "We **have** to get out here before the fight."

"No shit, Sherlock," started George irritably.

"I mean, next week my girlfriend gives birth!"

"Oh." George suddenly remembered and felt sheepish for forgetting. "Yeah, huh?"

_- - - -{The Labyrinth}- - - -_

Hettie wasted no time to throw the little girl head first into the labyrinth. With her hands still tangled in silver chains, Hope landed bottoms up on the blackened concrete, her reflexes only barely sharp enough to brace her fall and protect her face. The little wolf tried to use her lip to push dry blood off of her nose as she sat up.

"Can we let them in now?" The little vampire whistled, turning upon Olfaq as if he were about to give her Christmas presents.

"I'll go speak with the new 'wolves presently," and the dark skinned vampire bowed his way out of their presence.

Aiden remained locked-jawed behind the Old One, sure that Hettie's desire for entertainment far outweighed his ability to charm her into satisfaction. Not for the first time in the last hundred years, the dark haired nurse was glad Mother was blasé enough about those she considered inconsequential. _Hattie saw ants and wanted to watch them burn._

Hope was shaking the silver off of her wrist and gingerly unwound the chain around her neck- the silver had left a streaky green black welt encircled around her skin like a rotting pattern. She touched it gingerly and recoiled when her little dirty fingers dug into melting flesh. Then the tween took her her hand inside the relative saftey of her knitted sweater sleeve, picked up the chain, and tossed it into the corner of her section of the maze.

For the most part, the top of the labyrinth partisans was barely 10 meters below the bleachers, and the tops of those walls were only four meters high. It was a two acre playing ground that the Cage had designed for special events during the '20s. Usually for Vampires in the mood for human hunts, the popularity of that entertainment rivaled Wolf fights during Prohibition. Olfaq had limited the maze events to once or twice a year now, since it was becoming harder and harder to find enough cheap meat.

Hettie's convoy were already getting eager, some were excited enough to have dropped fangs. She counted them, at least two fangs were old enough to smell like cinnamon. And a dozen or so more who accompanied Hettie like disposable toys. Even for an Old one, she had a large harem. Hope chuckled under her breath, thinking of all the wonderful things she could do to young fangs.

A few of the local hires were starting to gather curiously. Olfaq must have had dozens under his employment, maybe more. And with the upcoming entertainment, many of them were there manning the pens that night. In all there were about twenty to thirty vampire custodians in the Cage.

Hope could sense all twenty werewolves in the pens around her. She concentrated on their aura. She breathed in their mystical presence and she forced her heart to pump that blood loudly through her body. She could build a hunt just from their smell alone. And she felt a strength fill up her fingertips, seal up her wounds, and charge her senses.

From nowhere, Sally materialized behind Aiden and the vampire tried not to jump. Even Sally seemed a bit surprised as to where she had appeared. Then she saw Hettie, who made a grimace as if to say '_I know you'_. But when Sally saw Hope the panic filled her face and before anyone could say anything, the free-spirit ghosted herself from the balcony to the arena floor and reached out to the little child. "What are you doing here?"

"What are **you** doing here?" repeated Hope, a little stricken by her concern.

"Did they hurt you? I mean, duh they hurt you. God," Hope waved away her concerns so Sally replied, "I'm looking for Josh and George."

"Did you find them?"

"Yeah, they're under the main lodge, not at the pens," Not knowing why, Hope looked southward to the cages and the pens. "I also saw Thom."

"Right, he's the reason I'm here in the first place."

"He needs your help. I want to help him but I can't so you need to help him!"

Hope just chuckled, "You two are hopeless."

Confused, Sally took a beat and half intrigued fished: "What do you mean? Did he say anything about me?"

"I'm standing in a bloody vampire arena, and you can still gossip?" Hope shook her head and sighed _'adults'_ before saying, "I've run with Thom for years now. And he's never once opened up to someone the way he's opened up to you. You made a difference in his life, Sally—and he's never even **met** you."

Sally hesitated. It was odd to hear something so desirable, in a time that was so un-desirable. Then she shook some sense into herself: "Wait. What is going on? Where is Mitchell? Why is _that_ ten-year-old-terror here?"

"You know her?" Hope looked at the little vampire, who was now arguing with Aiden.

"She broke into my house." Sally looked upset, "My house."

"She's their superior." Hope glared at the other girl and then added, "She's not very nice."

Sally just agreed with her and then tried to beckon the little werewolf follow her. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Not right now, thank you Sally," Hope shook out the kinks in her shoulder and then wiped some blood off of her nose. "But you should get out of here, and encourage Aiden to do the same."

Sally looked miserably at the redhead as she tied her hair back with a tight band. "You're not seriously going to fight in the pens are you? Whatever the Cage has in store for you, it's not going to be pleasant."

Hope just smiled and repeated, "Get Aiden out of here. Lead him to George and Josh and whatever you do, do not come back through this way. If all goes well, Thom, Alda and I will meet you back at the house in the morning."

"You're just like Thom," Sally complained. Then she remembered: "Oh, Thom wanted to tell you that Alda's gone ahead or something…"

Hope looked deeply troubled for a moment, "oh. Well." Suddenly Sally thought the worst had happened to Alda, what Hope said next didn't ease her feelings. "I would have liked to have her fighting by my side right now."

"You don't mean she's—" Sally would have said 'dead'- but it was that moment, Olfaq approached the vampires pleasantly.

And with his 'professional butler voice', the guide announced, "We have five volunteers."

As if she wasn't prepared, Hope shuffled Sally out of the arena and said urgently under her breath, "Take Aiden and free George and Josh. **Now**. Do not let Aiden back in here." She didn't seem to used to giving orders to people who didn't obey. For a fleeting moment, Sally found it funny.

"And you, little werewolf," Olfaq ignored the fact that Sally disappeared from the arena to the viewing seats. "Don't think you can get them to rally against us, since I have so thoroughly convinced them you're not _human_." And his blackened lusty eyes held the remnants of his vampire persuasion and pleasure.

The gates to the maze started to open and there were three that Hope could see directly from where she waited in the maze clearing. One was a giant beast of a man who stepped out of the gate to her left. And an old and cranky man stepped out from a gate to her front right. And behind her, Thom appeared, battle hot on his breath. They had been compelled to fight her and she could smell their hunger.

"Huh," started the tiny little girl as the exceptionally large and violent men closed around her, "Well shit."

And she thought about it, "I guess I'm **not** human, am I?"


	15. Pack Mentality

**Chapter 15: Pack Mentality**

Annie had expected Aiden and Mitchell to remain together after the confrontation with Olfaq. So imagine her surprise when she appeared alone in an empty garage when she expected the company of a ghost, some vampires and a lot of trapped werewolves in the Cage's pens. The spiritual air was empty and cold compared to the boiler of the Cage. The night was already in full swing and the last of the dawn disappeared over the bay's horizon.

A bulletproof black limousine car rolled in to the hotel's driveway. The front door to the hotel opened and in the dim evening, the flood of light that flowed from the foyer blinded her.

"Annie?" The ghost recognized Mitchell's loud whisper and she frantically searched the cold garage. Of course when she tried to catch up with Sally, she hadn't locked on to the new ghost friend's aura, but the more familiar Mitchell's. That obviously meant he was here somewhere.

"Mitchell?" she hissed back, her eyes straining in the dark.

He beckoned her come from behind a parked SUV, and she transported herself there before the door to the limousine opened. She stared in awe as a tall, dark skinned man descended from the car. He could have been Asian, but he had dark orange skin; it looked papery thin and was traced with blue-black vanes even though his face was that of a man no older than twenty. He wore a grey suit that was custom fitted and adorned with stitched accents. Two young women dressed in animal fur stepped out with him, neither felt like vampires.

Then there was the driver, who was definitely an Old One.

Annie was caught in the moment when the vampire called Mother welcomed the visitor with an odd warmth. He said something nice to her and then one of his woman associates presented the vampire with an ornate cardboard box. By the way Mother swooned, Annie assumed the contents were some kind of clothing luxury.

_Suppose vampires do like dates after all,_ thought Annie looking wistfully to her crush. It was then the corner of her eye caught the wooden weapon in Mitchell's jacket. "Is that a stake?" she demanded in a hush.

Mitchell tried to get her to lower her voice when he realized in her panic, his target was entering the house.

"Is that your target? You're here assassinating vampires while George and Josh are suffering god-knows-what at the hands of those monsters in the werewolf dungeon?"

"Annie, please s_hus-sh_," Mitchell tried not to sigh when the door to the hotel closed behind him. "Damn it, Annie.

"Don't 'damn' me, Mitchell. You know very well I have already been damned and as far as I'm concerned it was a walk in the park compared to what I see you conspiring."

"It's not like that, I'm—"

"Going to kill that tall… and kind of creepy… vampire gentleman that just went into the house?"

"Where did you hear I was going to murder someone?" Mitchell hissed tiredly, "Why would you even think that? I'm not!"

"Well then why are you carrying around a stake?" Annie propped her hands firmly on her hips and frowned deeply to show her displeasure.

Mitchell looked a little lost then said lamely, "For protection?"

"I can't believe it," though Mitchell was sure she only said that for she seemed to thoroughly believe 'it'.

"Please listen to me Annie, now is **not** the time. It's not what you think, but if I don't go in there this minute, I'm going to be in trouble."

Then Mitchell forced the two of them to ducked from sight when an old dusty city Sedan rolled to a stop by the hotel's curb. When the maid had hobbled quickly to the Hotel, both kept from view and didn't come out again till after Mitchell was sure she had disappeared into the hotel's side entrance. Annie tried to take a peek, but Mitchell frustrated, kept her clamped down; She didn't like being man-handled, so she clenched her fists in protest.

"No: **you** listen to me, Mitchell. If you don't get your ass back to that Werewolf dungeon right now George may get tortured to death, or pitted against Josh, or even Aiden! Is this target so important that you would risk your own friend's life for it?"

Mitchell watched her, on the edge of angry tears. He knew he had an obligation to fulfill Snow's requests. If he didn't his life would be threatened. But he thought about it and knew he had many lives, and most of them he screwed up—lived wastefully.

George was not him. George was Mitchell's chance to nurture the son and brother that he may have had at some point. George wanted to live and it was Mitchell's duty as his protector to make sure the Werewolf battled his fears about himself and the rest of the supernatural world.

Annie was right, Snow's request _should_ wait.

"Okay, let's go."

Annie blinked at him, "Just like that?"

Mitchell almost laughed at her, but he caught himself. "Well, yeah."

"Well yeah! Let's go!" and they stood up. "Where are we going?"

"To steal that car."

"From a maid!?"

"We'll give it back later," Mitchell said, as he ran to the street. "She's probably a vampire maid anyway."

_- - - -{Elsewhere}- - - -_

"We've got to go," whispered Sally to the vampire as she lifted her spirit to the bleachers.

"Give me a second," Aiden hissed back, "I think I can still get Hope out of here."

Whatever argument He was having with Hettie had come to a halt, for she leaned happily over the railings to watch. To her credit, she managed to keep her fangs in check, she was an old one after all; and she needed to set an example. Meanwhile, as the wolf blood pumped through the arena and the participants approached dangerously close to the helpless little girl, werewolf hunger had started. Wolf fights and wolf transformations gave vampires a perverted high. The bloodlust that comes off of wolves in battle filled the air with pheromones and adrenaline. Things that a vampire can still sense, but barely produce on their own anymore.

It was like chemical porn.

And even Aiden had to admit that there was something intriguing about a wolf's battle lust. Even as he tried to formulate an escape route for the fragile 'wolf child, the dark sinister corner of his mind wondered what this would be like, drenched in the hunger of the pack.

Perhaps it was just the sheer number of the wolves in the Cage grounds, but Aiden could almost swear he had never felt such powerful supernatural energy coming from fights. Not even on the days of the full moon. And from where he stood, he could clearly see the three unchanged wolves in the clear arena, and the two unchanged wolves navigating the simple maze. The vampire in him waited excitedly to see the carnage that would occur when they finally met their target.

"We really need to get Josh."

"Josh," Aiden remembered and was shaken out of his lust, "is he okay?"

"Actually," Sally thought about it then said, "Yeah. But we better get him out anyway. Thom and Hope have a plan apparently." She didn't mention Alda, "Both of them are super convinced they'll be okay."

Aiden licked his lips then looked at Olfaq and Hettie, they were distracted by the wolf-shaped fire just as every other vampire in the bleachers were. If there was a time to excuse himself discretely, now would be it. "Fine, let's go get Josh."

_- - - -{Elsewhere}- - - -_

Mitchell drove the beat up four door vehicle with some difficulty. He didn't drive much in the UK and driving funky handed was just adding to the confusion. Fortunately the road leading up to the pens were populated enough that the British Vampire could at least keep track what side of the road he was supposed to turn onto. And at least the old lady drove an automatic. It had taken him two or three blocks to decide which pedal was gas, and which one was the breaks. He wouldn't have liked to try and add in the clutch to that mix.

That and he kept turning on the windshield wipers every time he tried to use the turn signal.

He desperately tried to remember the direction he was supposed to go – not much paying attention the first time because he was burning with worry about George, and not paying attention the last time because Snow was making deadly commentary about how poor a job he was doing.

Mitchell focused fiercely on the road in order to avoid thinking about the conversation he had with the Viceroy back at the pens after he and Aiden brought Olfaq to the offices. Aiden seemed to have some faith in Mitchell when he agreed he could be sent off with the emissary (as Snow requested) but both were sure Mitchell was **not** going to get a pat on the back. No doubt the old vampire expected results when the Bristol king arrived back at the Cage and results was something Mitchell did not have. _No Sacrifice to offer._

'_If you do not fulfill your end of our arrangement, then how can I fill mine?_' Snow had said menacingly after he chastised Mitchell for wasting time playing around with werewolves. Mitchell made a 'nay-nay' face as he mocked the Old One, but that was now in the saftey of the car. At the time, he was scared shitless and could naught but run out to fulfill the Vampire's whim.

_A simple target—one thing._ But even as Mitchell scolded himself for being so inept, the logical part of him reasoned: '_Yumm is even older than Snow. If he didn't want me near him, I wouldn't be able to get anywhere near him_.' He turned another alley and was relieved to find he had finally made it.

He pulled the car to a stop in an open spot by the loading-bay entrance and sniffed his way in. Something was brewing, he could feel the slight heat of a battle inside but Annie led him away from the arenas and toward the store front. Unlike the dirty underbelly of the entertainment grounds, the establishment's façade was quite elegant. And the further from the pens they were, the more the store reminded Mitchell of a spa. Annie led him to the reception area, and from the marble table, she led him through a stair case, some doors, some offices and another stair case.

Then Annie stopped and Mitchell looked at the only door at the end of the very long hall. He paused trying the handle, and when it didn't open he banged his fist hard on the door frame. "Hey!"

"Who's there?"

Mitchell almost fainted in relief when the familiar voice forced its way through the door. "George, thank god. It's Mitchell."

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" the werewolf sounded angry and the vampire laughed in relief knowing his anger just implied he was not harmed.

"It's a long story," shouted the vampire, "Stand back." He kicked the door with all of his vampire strength. It clanked loudly on the hinges and sent a shockwave of pain up the Bristol king's entire leg. He braced himself and kicked it again, with doubled force. "It's not going to get forced open."

"I saw a security office somewhere on the second floor when they dragged us down here. See if maybe you can find keys."

"Yeah," Mitchell knocked the door a few times to thank his room mate, "I'll be right back." Then to the ghost, "Annie?"

She looked at him from where she crouched, staring at the door's lock to see if she could see inside the room through it. "Watch them will you? And tell me as soon as anyone comes for them."

"Yeah, okay," Then she materialized away. A second later, the werewolves were talking and Mitchell took off back the way he came trusting that she was now in the room with them. It only took him five minutes to run up the stairs and find the security room. The dim lights of the monitors flickered sharply in the night. He found the keys on a rack and took three different rings that looked silver and promising. Praising his luck, he looked around the small monitoring station wondering why it was so empty._ Surely the night watch wouldn't have abandoned his sandwich for no reason._

He was about to leave when the recording monitor over the arenas panned, and Mitchell thought he saw a child crying. He leaned into the little monitor a bit too late and the scene flashed. What looked like every vampire in the area had been gathered to watch this girl scream. They leaned over the railings of the event with their fangs bared blatantly. The scene panned again, and there she was, a little girl of ten, being stalked by ragged men—crying.

'_Not… crying,_' realized Mitchell. '_She's howling._'

"Ah. I thought I saw you **lurking** back here."

Mitchell jerked, the fear gripped his throat and he almost dropped the keys. Snow closed the gap between himself and the peon, his already pale and thin skin glowed sinisterly in the light of the ever changing security footage. "I assume you are here now because you have completed what I asked. Because you know I do not take kindly to failures."

"Uh." And Mitchell knew he would have to explain himself.

_- - - -{Labyrinth}- - - -_

Sally had not gotten Aiden out soon enough, and the violent hunger melting off of her assailants were becoming alarmingly strong. Whatever Olfaq had compelled them to think of her, it must have been hideous. She took another deep breath and gathered all of the air into the darkest recess of her spirit. And there, in the middle of the vampire cheers, and hoots and joy, she screamed. She screamed till she felt her throat tear and her lungs shrank under her chest. She screamed till the sound was made by sheer force, and not air.

This pleased the crowd and they rejoiced in her reaction. All except Aiden and Sally, who had been leaving but were shocked to turn by their friend's obvious wail. But Hope was not deterred, she focused again and swallowed a great gasp in, then screamed again. The noise she made was not shrill—it was a practiced cry: deep and dark and filled with so much energy that it shook the spirits in the air. She cried so deliberately and cleanly that she flashed her teeth, and her face turned red from the effort.

It didn't usually take so much energy to focus, but she also only attempted to fight with a pack, her pack, closer to the moon. And though the strangers didn't seem to heed her first cries, she remained trained, her narrow blue eyes never once leaving the face of her little rival. When she cried out the third time, she felt her spirit explode, and a great wave of supernatural energy ripped through the arena. And in that instant, she was connected to every wolf on the establishment. She could hear them, and they could hear her.

_This is the battle lust of a Legacy._ Thought Hope, _'and an Evebringer.'_

And despite every core value that she had been taught, Hope could not help but relish in the overwhelming power she controlled when she was in this state. The power to completely decimate an entire race on a whim. She forced her wolf spirit out and she felt every one of her already heightened senses swell up, flow over.

Where she didn't transform, she felt the tall beast of a man stagger from his run and lopped to all fours—all around her was the cacophony of cracking bones and popping muscles and soon her howl led the harmony of every changing creature in the cages. As she knew he would, the tall black captive was the first to complete his transformation and she beckoned him to her. He lifted a lip to reveal his rows of sharp animal canines then raced his way to her side, never stopping, not even as she reached out expertly grabbed onto the thick of his mane and mounted his shoulders squarely and sure.

He bounded toward the bleachers, in a breathtaking few steps – and launched himself up the walls of the maze. His strong as steel claws peeled down the concrete as he slid back down the drop to the arena. Hope skittered down the wall, unsuccessful at climbing out of her trap. But even as the big black wolf circled around for another running start, the little girl continued to keep a keen eye on Hattie.

A shocked silence had gripped the audience during the fourty five seconds it took for the wolves to transform. And for every fraction of that time, Hope relished on Hettie's change of expressions especially. And the little Legacy decided that her favorite part of Hettie's entire reaction was that moment when the vampire's joyful cruelty turned to breathless fear.

_It's not every day you get to surprise an Old One_. Thought Hope arrogantly, as the other werewolves recovered from their transformation. Fangs flashed and claws screamed, and the deep rumble of wolf cries flooded the arena. And even though she didn't need to, Hope said:

"Kill them all."

* * *

AN: I'm on a roll, don't expect too many weeks with double chapters. =}

In fact, unfortunately, storytime during work is going to slow up again after this. Since now I will be working on another computer for a while. Don't worry, the storry will be completed by the end of next month!


	16. Thanks for the Parting Gifts

**Chapter 16: Thanks for the Parting Gifts**

Josh and George sat anxiously with Annie as Mitchell had been gone to get the keys. They waited there for ten to fifteen minutes before the werewolves felt the first howl, then the second, and the third. George hit his knees, and Josh stumbled backward into the cushioned seat. Annie too had felt the magic, and her nerves stood on end when the werewolf spirit seared over her skin.

"What just happened?"

Josh was covering his ears, and George started making growling sounds.

"Guys?" Annie's anxious voice covered them both. "Should I get Mitchell?"

"No!" Then George made a face as if he hadn't meant to shout, "I mean, no. It's… fading now."

"What on earth was that?" Josh rubbed his temple then blinked away spots, "My god, my head is killing me. And can you smell cinnamon?"

George took looked around but his vision was not what he was focusing on. "It's like someone just blasted up the 'wolf's senses. It almost feels like the day before a full moon." The two of them tried to gauge what caused the reaction when an alarm started sounding. The flashing lights and wailing sirens were so loud that they knocked both men off of their feet, their hands forced over their sensitive ears. Annie tried to find the source of the sound and zoomed out of the room with ghost speed. With ghost speed, she flew back.

"Okay guys, don't go anywhere!"

"What's out there?" George demanded through the pain, instantly translating the stricken look on the specter's face.

"There are werewolves in the cage arena!"

Josh and George gawked blatantly at her, "How?"

"Dunno," and she disappeared again. George would have liked to call her back but it was too late and he cursed loudly in the painful din. If she were a person, he could have shouted after her, and he realized that she could be miles away within a second; shouting wouldn't do him much good.

Behind him, Josh had taken a chair to the obnoxious alarm and in a splinter of warning parts and broken furniture the noise wailed like a dying animal till it was silent. "Well now we have stakes."

George fumbled while Josh tossed him a broken leg of the wooden chair. "This is an oak seat."

"Was an oak seat," said Josh, looking equally impressed at his own hands. "Whatever that thing was, it's awakened the wolf's strength."

George felt different: even his injuries weren't bothering him anymore.

"Great… this means we have weapons in case someone decides to come check up on their prisoners during a** fire drill**," thought George sarcastically. But when the door to their cell unlocked, he (like Josh) gripped hard on the smooth leg of his stake and held it tightly in the air.

"Whoever is opening that door," George said sniffing the air, "it's not Mitchell."

"Ain't Aiden either," whispered Josh.

_- - - - {Labyrinth}- - - - -_

After eight decades of guarding the Old Ones, Aiden had been sure he had seen it all. Mutated werewolves, constructs of black magic wielders, degenerated and infected vampires—but never had he ever seen _this_. The mere men and woman afflicted by the curse had changed completely to their beasts yet had not experienced a full moon.

Granted, he didn't know much about werewolves social behavior, but he also didn't think they grouped like this_—not this easily_. There was an uncharacteristic fear and fascination that welled up inside of him as he watched- he was muted and rooted to his place with his hand on the door's bar latch.

And then there was Hope, mounted on her supernatural lycanthrope steed as if she were riding a bike.

He had trusted her, and he had let her into his house never even imagining that she could force werewolves to change and coordinate them to fight. He recalled all those times he thought she was helpless and harmless: the memories suddenly flooded back to him and he felt sick knowing she could do this to a werewolf._ She could have done this to Josh._

Hettie was in a fit, and she fought to leave the bleachers, but she was too close to the entertainment and too far from the exits. With other panicked vampires stampeding out of the few exits of the balcony, the little vampire found herself pinned. She pushed those who violated her space viciously, she was obviously still stronger when matched with the others—but her size was a disadvantage. In a split second among the panic, one of the werewolves tore down the ledge that led to the VIP box and the whole section of the bleacher tumbled into the maze with Hettie, some of her company, and Olfaq down with it.

Stuck in the depths of the labyrinth, Aiden swallowed the urge to go assist her. it was reaction from decades of training, but it wasn't desire. And when two of the 'wolves closed around the helpless vampires, Aiden easily dismissed himself from duties to the Old One. Instead he thought about helping Hope; and was throughly frightened to the core.

The werewolf woman had managed to claw her way up the further side of the bleachers and had cut off those trying to escape from the back door. And in the deep of the arena, Hope's steed was loping madly at the few vampires who were trying to stab back at the creature that was blocking their way. With the bleacher down, there was a clear path of debris up and out of the Labyrinth and the remaining few werewolves who were smaller pranced to the clusters of vampires and were trying to herd them into the center of the arena.

Then someone hit Hope and her black werewolf with the edge of a bleacher.

The black werewolf tumbled off of the ledge and back into the maze, smashing into and breaking off a part of the partitions on his way to the ground. A large chunk of the concrete and metal that made the wall cut through the black wolf's ribs and it heaved unhappily as it staggered to all fours.

Hope had lost her grip on the creature's mane and her head smacked the solid cement wall hard.

"Hope!" Sally could not control herself as her body materialized from the exit to the little werewolf's side. And for a second, Aiden could only think,_ 'Stay back, Sally! She's dangerous.'_

Thom was ripping through vampires where he could, he too was pumped with supernatural energy. His body remained unchanged but the transformation in his spirit was so complete: Aiden could hardly comprehend it. When the wolfborn tore out the throat of the closest vampire, the dust cleared a visual path between them and the dark-haired legacy tried not to look shocked to see Aiden there. For a split second, it was like he was hanging on the thread of his former self.

"Get out of here, Fangs!" Thom snarled, closing the gap between himself and Aiden with primal strides, ripping apart any vampire that barred his way. The nurse thought the 'wolf might attack him. But instead Thom grabbed Aiden by the collar of his blue shirt and shoved the printmaker's son forcefully through the arena's double doors. "She didn't give them **any** exceptions."

"What's going on down there Thomas," he threw the wolf's bloody hands off of him and tried not to look so frightened. Though he was having trouble filling up his eyes, he had no trouble dropping his fangs, "What just happened?"

The door behind them slammed shut and Thom shivered visibly. It was as if some hand had taken him by the scruff of his neck and poured electricity down his spine. His usual cool demeanor was swelling with a battle lust—Aiden could smell it off of him like a cheap cologne and it piqued every supernatural sense within the vampire.

"I'm trying to save your life, fucktard," Thom jabbed his bloody fingers toward the arena door, "Hope is in there controlling as many werewolves as she can during an off moon and with the amount of concentration it takes to keep them in this state would completely prevent her from recognizing you!"

"Hope is doing this?" Aiden only uttered what he already had deduced himself. Still, the idea of a pre-teen carrying this much power rendered the vampire awestruck.

"Yes! Of course. Did you not just see? This is just one of her skills as the child of an **Evebringer**. And this is why it was so important for Hope and Alda to make sure George gets back to the reserve before he spawns another Evebringer Legasy."

"Why? So that you could use **another** like her to bring upon the death of all vampires?"

Thom's eyes narrowed and he growled, "You're such a fang."

But the conversation halted, for an alarm suddenly rang through the halls. "Someone must have been able to pull an alert. There will be more vampires soon, I need to go back."

"Wait, Thomas."

"Get George, Aiden. And **don't** come back here" He halted at the door, his eyes were hot with anger and sweat and ash streaked down his skin. As if he was suddenly human, the wolf turned back to the vampire and then admitted, "You might be one of them, but I don't want you to die."

"Thom, be careful," and Thom may have heard Aiden's advice, but the door closed loudly before the vampire had finished his sentence. So Aiden accepted this good-bye and turned to run toward the cage's façade. He knew where Josh was the moment Sally said they were in the reception area: the showcase room—where they put the prized fighters together so that the spectators could lay bets. _It was the most logical place._

Aiden tried to navigate his way passed pens of changed wolves, and half changed wolves to finally climb the stairs to the reception area. By the time he had reached the dark of the closed storefront, Aiden was panting and his mask was already completely dropped. He hadn't eaten properly in a week, and he hadn't had a werewolf fix since the day before. The lack of blood energy was obvious.

He staggered to catch his breath at the reception desk when the front door to the store swung. Aiden gasped in the blast of cool autumn air in from the docks - he hadn't realized how hot and suffocating it had been in the arena. Then partially from all the surprises and lack of rest, partially from the obligation in his curse to do so, Aiden dropped to a knee and there he bent while the darkened figures filled in the foyer.

"Master." Aiden managed between panting. The Old One stepped into the light and fixed his fitted gloves over his orange hands. He looked about the Cage entrance darkly cynical. The nurse had never seen the ancient Yumm before, but Aiden knew the founder of all American vampires when he saw him.

"This is my associate," Mother explained, taking her arm out of Yumm's to approach the kneeling newborn. "He's in a trinity, and has a great amount of further potential as a vampire."

"Yes," the stranger started, halting to give Aiden some aditional inspection, "I see that." And thankfully Aiden felt that Yumm didn't seem interested in taking it any further than that. "Let me know how that progresses. And please, someone find a way to turn off that infernal racket." An Old One, dressed like a valet then disappeared in a breath, presumably to find the source of the alarms. "One thing I do hate about technology is how **noisy** it is."

"Forgive me for being so inquisitive, but what are you both doing here in the Cage?"

"Protecting an asset," admitted Yumm, clearly comfortable in casual conversation with an underling. "And punishing subterfuge, hopefully."

"Yes, lord, but I meant more along the pertinence of: **how** did you know to come to this establishment specifically?"

"Ah, we were **led** here," and the ancient vampire stepped to one side to indicate behind him, "Though we didn't need to be, with the vast anomaly of werewolf energy pouring out of this place seems as loud an alarm as any of these blasted security alerts." As if on cue, it turned off, and Yumm smiled pleasantly. "_ah_."

But Aiden was more interested in the darkened figure that the great leader had indicated toward. She stepped fully out into the light and the vampire held back a genuinely shocked gasp.

"_You_?"

_- - - -{Security office}- - - -_

"So let me summarize what you have just spent the last ten minutes babbling on about: you haven't even tried to approach my brother?"

"To be fair, he had only just arrived on the premise. I haven't had the time to—"

Snow whirled upon the king with his rotted teeth barred, the anger flared in every feature on him. Mitchell leaned back on the console buttons behind him and alarms lit up. Not in the slightest bit phased buy the sudden noise, Snow inched his pale skin closer to Mitchell's face and the vampire tried not to arm up while he strugled to figure out how to turn off the sirens he had acidentally initiated. "Let me tell you a thing or two about '_time_', you little creeten.

"I have lived for nearly forty centuries and invariably argue that the few hours of **your** time are vastly miniscule compared to a second of **mine**. This task I give you depends on a matter of minutes and none of those can **or should** be wasted for a toddler like yourself to play with your filthy dogs.

"I have withheld your mangy pets from you to incentivize your achievements. But if their presence in my care will be nothing but a distraction to you from reaching my goals, then I will personally see to it they are euthanized immediately. Unless we come to an agreement _right now_, the next time I see you have failed me, you will be left without your precious werewolf and I will ensure that Wyndham will have every edge on you available to him. When you return home, you'll be no more than a puppet king in his pocket."

"Am I worth all of this trouble?" countered Mitchell miserably. He thought that the image of Snow enraged would have been funny; the vampire known for his sick and calculating patience—he thought it would have been a triumph to make the man flustered. It wasn't—if possible, it was more terrifying than his already overbearing demenaor. And it was a kind of terror that rooted itself deep inside the younger vampire.

"Of course you aren't. But here I am standing here without Yumm's Skin, and that is worth every lick of concern I have for the matter. I will not let a fledgling like you screw up the biggest investment I have developed for the past thousand years."

"So you won't stoop to killing werewolves?" Mitchell asked hopefully.

Irritably Snow replied, "In fact, that sounds like an _excellent_ idea." He dragged Mitchell out of the Security office and down the hall. "Why don't we do that right now." And he grabbed the silver handle of the door in front of him, then yanked it open hard.

_- - - -{The Silver Room}- - - -_

The thick door to the cell room unlatched and it flew open quickly, the heavy silver slab beat the wall hard where the vampire had pushed it. George and Josh braced themselves for the attack, sweat breaking their skin and the deafening pound of their own heart drowning out their ears.

When the undead captor had rushed into the room, Josh nearly fainted where he stood.

"Thank god, Henry!"

"You know this guy?" George asked, his stake still clenched to his chest.

"Know this guy?" Josh laughed at the statement, hysterical, "I **love** this guy."

Henry was not fooled, and just waved the pair toward the door. "Come on, Josh. It's a mess out there, and we better get you two out before anyone else remembers you're up here." The two wolves didn't wait to be asked twice, and soon the three of them were bolting down the long corridor.

"What's going on? What's with the alarms?"

"That little bloodsucker Hettie brought in a demon to the cages. She turned all of the infected werewolf people into werewolf… werewolves."

"**Hattie** changed werewolves into werewolves?"

"Not Hattie. It was the little werewolf girl she found caused the other 'wolves to transform."

"What? Now? It's not even a full moon."

"Not a lot of time to explain," said the young vampire leading them up the fire-escape. "But it's complete carnage out there. No vampire is going to survive those werewolves, not with that girl in there."

"We have to go back there. Thom was in the cages. And the little girl, that could be Hope."

"We can't go back," Henry said harshly. "Didn't you hear me say we'd get killed?"

"You did say 'no vampire' would survive them," stated George uncooperatively.

"Who the **hell** are you?" growled the bloodsucker.

Josh didn't let George answer; instead he took Henry by the wrist and looked urgently in the other man's eyes. In response to the threat, the young ex-soldier dropped his fangs and glared angrily with deep black pools. But Josh didn't let the façade phase him, and he went straight into saying, "Henry, **Aiden** is still back there."

To George's surprise, Henry's anger faded. After a long few seconds, the monster said, "Fine. I'll try and find Aiden. You two wait for me at my car."

"You can't go," Josh said. "You said it yourself, no vampires. Whatever is going on in the pens, we can feel it. We're werewolves and whatever happened to them is giving us strength too; we can get them ourselves and you wait here."

"Aiden would **kill** me if I let anything happened to you," Henry snapped, "There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight."

"And if anything happened to you, Henry, it would kill _Aiden_," Josh didn't let Henry's hand go, and instead repeated, "you **can't** go."

The young vampire's determination softened. And finally he said, "Just don't die."

"Yeah." Josh and George took off down the fire-escape hallway. "We'll try not to."


	17. All Things in the End

**Chapter 17: All Things in the End**

"Where are they?" Growled Snow, throwing Mitchell to the ground and pressing his face to the vaulted one-way glass.

The viewing platform was in a cozy red cavern with elegant tables, and a bar—It was for entertainment best that Mitchell could gather. The room below must have been where George and Josh were being held captive. There was upturned furniture, and a broken alarm. The whole captive space could be seen where they stood.

The door to the room was wide open and the young vampire thought there was no one inside. But he couldn't be completely sure for Mitchell had only a second to take it all in before he was dragged by the hair down the stairs and toward the empty cell.

Even while being torn down the hall and into the little cage, Mitchell couldn't help but be relieved and worried that his roommate was not where he left him.

Snow sniffed the air as he looked around, then finally gave a ferociously frustrated bark before throwing Mitchell into the only upright chair. "Nevermind the dog. Blind luck allows it to live another day. **You** on the other hand, still owe me."

From his reflection on the ceiling, the young vampire could clearly see how pathetic he was compared to the Old One. He had earned his reputation, as Snow had earned his. There was no shame there, just raw and uh-tapered fear. "This is more than I bargained for," complained Mitchell defiantly. "If you really want Yumm's Skin that much, then you can strip it from him yourself!"

"You are a **dead** man if you don't fear me!" Snow's eyes glowed a hot red and Mitchell felt the skin on his body tighten like a vice around him.

"I am afraid of you. I'm terrified of you! But do what you want with me, I will not let you hurt George."

Snow stifled a laugh. He was shocked. Then he decided not to stifle it after all and was soon rocking the room with a mean cackle. "What a small-small creature you are." The old vampire flashed his gums and rotted teeth. "What an _irritating_ thing. I have presented to you an opportunity for my favor to do this one thing for me! My brother only emerges from his place once a thousand years! And you squander my preparation and your chance at a life free – for what? For 'George'?"

Mitchell felt the sting of the Old One's hand long before he realized he was even struck. Blood seeped from his temple and into his eyes and from base reaction, his pupils filled up. The world turned a blinding brightness, and the blood and heat outlined itself in a halo of vampire sight.

"You will die knowing every vampire under my blood will hunt down your dog more precious to you than my trophy. He will never live free as long as I cannot have what is due to me!"

"It is not too late," pleaded Mitchell. "I can still do as you ask. And you can still punish me as you see fit. Just leave my roommate alone."

Snow growled, after his outburst he seem to think it was time to return to his familiar broody persona. And even though the excitement had lowered its volume, the sinister aura never once tuned down. "Do you think that I want your promises now?"

"You went further on your bargain. I was willing to do all you asked if you hadn't captured George in the first place."

"Are you still arguing about that?" Snow fought back his temper, "In hindsight it was obviously a terrible idea for me to have separated you from your _beloved_ animal. I should have returned him to you the moment Olfaq reported him captured. But the young generation, so ever unpredictable. In the old days, you could string a man along for years if you promised them their loved ones back. Not anymore apparently." Snow's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Where has the romance gone?"

Mitchell didn't like that and he spat loudly at the old vampire. This did not please the Old vampire and he wiped his shoulder unhappily. "I'm very _disappointed_ in you Mitchell. There was such potential in you." Snow hit him again with sharp vampire sting. "Alas, You are not who you use to be."

"I've changed," admitted Mitchell. Snow sneered at how pleased he was with himself and he took his hands around the young vampire's neck with all the intents to break it and Mitchell surrendered to the inevitable.

"**You** haven't changed, though, little brother."

Snow's gloves left the king's neck suddenly and both stared stock at the arrival of the lord or America. Yumm was looking sternly at the pair, his young face clearly unhappy. His female body guards were armed with silver loaded hand guns. Their fingers laced in the pouches that contained wolfblood syringes. Yumm trained them young, and kept them charmed most of the time. He only brought two with him, Snow realized that his brother had not expected any confrontations.

Still, he did not shy from him, and Snow cursed himself for not bringing his own familiars. A body-guard would have at least bought him some time to escape.

"Thinking of running?" Mother said, smugly. She unhooked her hand from the crock of Yumm's arm and approached Snow with wicked defiance. "Pathetic thief."

"That is quite enough, lady," Yumm uttered sternly and tiredly. Then to Snow, "I would ask you to explain yourself, brother. But I think I have heard enough." And he looked up through the double glassed window to the viewing room beyond. And then Mitchell understood; some time during his argument with Snow, Yumm and his company must have entered the balcony and overheard their entire conversation. Mitchell spied Aiden by the valet's side. He stood protectively over the old maid that Mitchell had seen enter the Hotel earlier. She may have tipped them off.

"You don't get to lecture me, 'brother'." Snow pouted, "I am the father of the European vampires."

"An impressive brood," agreed Yumm, "Yet you still stoop to stealing family artifacts?"

"I am not stealing what I am owed." Snow countered angrily. "And since we are on the subject matter, I might as well demand them from you now before you do something foolish," and though he didn't say anything, he gave Mother a very bitter glare. She pursed her lips into a tight line, and Mitchel tried to decide if she was forcing back a grow, or a grin.

"Hhehh," Yumm crossed his arms over his chest and Mother returned to his side like an obedient wife. "As it so happens, I do not have them in my possession any longer."

"What?"

"I must have put them somewhere, I do not know where they are now."

Snow boiled with rage, and the whole room heated sharply. Finally he exploded, "How could you lose a priceless piece of vampire history? Does our superiority or even our survival as a race mean nothing to you?"

"Do not chastise **me** about the merits of survival." Yumm's voice raised and it sounded like the room was filled with thunder. "Not after what you did to our Sister."

Then Snow glared meanly toward Aiden's superior, "**She** will not replace _her_." It was a command, not a statement.

This time Yumm looked unnerved and he flashed broken fangs. "That is not what is going on here."

Smugly, Snow did back off, growling. Then finally, he announced with ire, "Our creator was wrong to give you her part. If he knew you'd lose it he would have sooner thrown it in a fire. Do you know what horrors could result if it fell into the hands of our enemies."

Yumm's face turned hard, and unhappily he nodded, "I do know."

Snow sighed unpleasantly then put his hands into his pockets while he let his temper fade. Then with a great inhale of breath, casually stepped out of the room: past Mitchell, past Yumm, past Mother, past the others behind them. Then like an eerie calm after a storm, he disappeared from the hallway.

The tall ancient leader let out a tight breath then, averted his attention from the ghost of a shape that had been the Eminent Snow. "Sometimes the enemy can look like family."

Aiden took now to finally piece all the parts together, _that was Mitchell's goal along; never to have harmed anyone—but to have taken_ "Skin?"

Yumm, with the patience he had shown all hour, said: "It should not be named 'Skin'. Instead consider it a diary of conversations that my creator, the first creator, had shared with the devil. They are the orders that governed the laws and limits of vampires and the herald of our greatest moments in time. They tell our prophesies."

Yumm could have continued but Aiden didn't need him too; What Snow wanted was clear. All vampires knew of the scrolls. They had no name, and were considered a myth by most. Aiden could barely comprehend that they existed, let alone were items that could be stolen. "If only I could have seen them."

The great vampire just smiled and said, "But as I have mentioned it before, I no longer have them."

"Luckily," said Aiden, looking sympathetically at Mitchell. The British king wiped blood off of his forehead. The cut had already sealed, "or your brother Old One would have taken it."

"Luck has nothing to do with good foresight." And Yumm smiled cunningly at the old maid.

She shrugged, and replied modestly, "I will pass the praise on to my mistress. I'm sure she would be happy to hear your approval, Ancient One."

"You, young thing," Yumm looked to Mitchell and the vampire froze, having hoped he could avoid a confrontation to Snow's equivalent in America. Especially after he over-heard him conspiring with the enemy. "You are missing a werewolf, are you?"

"Yes, uh… sir. Snow held him—"

"I overheard," Yumm cut him off curtly. "You may go retrieve him. I will make sure my brother does not take out his anger toward me out of you and your family. But that's all I can promise you, for now. If he finds it in himself to re-awaken his interest in you; then do not expect me to come to your defense."

_'He was basically saying: Stay out of trouble'_, Mitchell realized. "Yes sir," And he scuttled out toward the pens without another dismissal.

Mother hooked her hand back into Yumm's arm and then without turning said, "You may go too, Aiden."

"Are you sure, Mother?"

"I do not like to repeat myself," she said bitterly.

So Aiden thanked her, then took a few steps backward, touching the little lady on the fore arm as he dashed away to the pens. He needed to catch up with Mitchell before he dove headfirst into a werewolf led annihilation.

_- - - -{Labyrinth Arena}- - - -_

Thom appeared back into the arena completely expecting the lust to engulf him again—like it usually did. But somehow, fighting it to have a half sensible conversation with Aiden had broken Hope's hold on him. For the first time since he had turned, he looked upon the bloodlust led battle and felt detached from it.

Even after he had returned to humanity, there was always that deeply seeded part of him that was always werewolf—_gone now_.

Hope was in her state, where in this moment, Thom couldn't even recognize her as human. He always knew she was more animal than person during her hunts, but that was something he had always comprehended in hindsight after each battle. Seeing her experience it in the presence then sent shivers of disgust through him.

"How is she doing this?" Annie's soulful eyes wide as she absorbed all the carnage, "She's just a child."

Thom had only seen Annie that once at the apartment when her love for George put her close enough to his level on the supernatural plane. She was a powerful specter; much more powerful than Sally was.

Replied Thom: "This is what an Evebringer can spawn into this world."

Annie didn't question how he could see her. The fear in her eyes made him suspect she knew her emotions made her visible. "And George…?"

"Do you see why they wanted him to watch in the first place?"

"He would never raise a child to do _this_," she insisted adamantly. "George is a good man!"

"Hope is a good child, and very mature for her age," and Thom added quietly, "much more mature than I am." He turned to her and pointed toward the angry wolf girl as she inched toward the gathering vampires. "If George isn't careful, this could happen around his Legacy. And that child will only grow stronger the older it gets: Hope is still growing stronger every day."

Annie glared at him, and he knew she had not changed her mind.

"You have to be carefully Annie, and make sure George's chid will grow up protected and loved. Can you do that when you and George get back to your home? Can you protect a monster like that if it ever happened?"

"What?" Annie was truly surprised, "I thought you wanted to take him away."

"I didn't value family before," Thom admitted, "But I see now what you and he have, and I see what I have. I don't want to take him away any more than you want him to go." He smirked at Annie's bewildered look and said, "Don't worry. I'll talk to the women after this. They can be convinced."

"You're going to go back into that?"

"Of course, Annie. We have to," and Thom didn't wait to be dismissed before he rushed the arena. Even as he closed the gap between himself and his alpha with a growing bloodlust, Thom realized he was a tired of fighting.

Hope felt him almost the moment he approached. And she glared at him for having abandoned the pack. With that singular look Thom himself caught scent of the lust, he resisted it long enough to say: "Mother wrote a letter to the Great One."

Hope did look at him shocked. "The vampire?"

"It would _explain_," Thom said. "Did Sally pass on my message?"

"It **would** explain," agreed Hope. "Yeah. Which hopefully means our duty is done."

"We can get out of here before the next moon?"

"We'll go right after this." And Hope reached out to find the rest of her pack. Thom felt her concentration wane, to a moment when a shock turned her to the front doors, "The Evebringer is here in the arena."

Then with surprising clarity, Thom heard Sally's voice: "Hope, Watch out!"

But the ghost's warning came too late and Hope spun bewildered when Olfaq's silver baton cracked hard across her head, The sound rang thunder through Thom's ears. And she fell to the ground lifelessly her little body unmoving. When she was down, Olfaq lifted his silver baton high over his head and poised over her little crumpled body as if to bring the silver bat through her tiny skull.

Without Hope's battle lust, he felt his own supernatural power swell and that deeply rooted loyalty overtook all other instinct. He would protect her; she was his alpha, and his blood sister- he had to. Barely thinking, Thom smashed that look of triumph from Olfaq's face before the entertainment guide could finish saying: 'Take that bitch!'.

The bleeding fists of the wolfborn rained down on Olfaq in a fury of swipes and his power only increased when he realized how close to murder the night had come. If Thom could have chosen, he would have beaten Olfaq to death. But the vampire was part caretaker of an establishment whose sole source of income came from capturing and keeping werewolves. _Of course there were methods to protect their well-being._

Thom was taken down hard by a silver noose then two, and he gnashed his teeth at the lackeys holding the end of the long pole before they started beating him with the batons again.

"So you don't transform, and silver doesn't affect you." Olfaq wiped the blood off of his nose and it left a smoking gray streak on his sensitive undead skin. "But your blood is still poisonous to us, and you can obviously communicate with this oddity. Hettie was right to command we put down the little dog; she's a smart vampire. But you I would think, are as big a threat."

Thom couldn't stop himself, and with nothing else to do, he roared—his force pulling the two guards holding him to their knees. From around his neck, Thom whipped the metal pole hard and it smashed through a vampire trying to approach them. He disappeared into dust and somewhere in the deep recess of his mind, Thom realized he must have swung the pole with enough force to snap the creature's neck when it hit.

Olfaq defended himself quickly, and his weapon struck down on the pole so hard that it snapped in half, sending a shockwave of pain from the noose down Thom's neck. The wolfblood gasped for air, tearing the silver thread from his neck as quickly as he could. But by then, Olfaq had taken a silver gun from his pocket and aimed it at Thom's head.

Hope struggled to her knees, just now barely recovering from the blow to her head. The gnash wouldn't heal, but her appearance was the least of her worries. In the sheer and utter panic of a helpless child, the little werewolf staggered to her feet and tumbled toward the battle.

She could see what was to happen.

She was desperate to stop him. She was desperate to save him. She had control over all werewolves—but at that moment, all she wanted control over one vampire.

Thom looked at her from where he knelt, and she held her breath as she clawed through the air, closing herself toward her blood brother. Even in her panic, she did see the way he looked at his pack sister: his eyes were dark and deep— And with that connection every alpha has with her pack, she knew what he meant: '_Don't worry, Hope._' Of course he had it under control.

And she felt useless.

The world around her crumble away into oblivion—and watched as the silver bullet exploded from the barrel of the vampire's gun, sear a clean and neat hole through the wolfblood's chest, and dragged his heart through the black leather jacket in a spray of warm werewolf blood.

* * *

AN: Alright troopers. Almost done.


	18. Goodnight Moon

**Chapter 18: Goodnight Moon**

"NO!"

Hope flew to the boy's side, catching his body before his broken head hit the ground. She tumbled backward at the dead weight of him, and there she fell, trapped and kneeling. Howling.

The bullet had passed through his jaw and through his clavicle, and out a messy explosion between his narrow shoulders. Wherever the bullet ended, it did not stop at simply killing him. Thom's face was sooted in gunpowder, and the blackened blood swelled over his features like a liquid blanket. Hope covered his body with her little arms, the blood soaked through her sweater and mingled with hers (now already dry and black).

Within that breath, some blur of a shape collided into the murdering vampire with blinding speed. And the growl was more feral and more powerful than any sound the other wolves could have ever made. Surprised, Olfaq lifted his arm to defend his face with his silver baton, but George, still fully human in the physical—snatched it from the air and ripped the weapon from his hand. The gun fell to a side and Josh, following closely behind George, snatched it up before anyone else could benefit from its power.

But even though the vampire was completely disarmed, subdue and helpless, George did not lift up. Instead he threw his nails into the vampire's face with one relentless strike after the next. And all the pain George had suffered at the hand of this undead oppressor was felled upon Olfaq with the ferocity of an unchained beast.

It was Olfaq's hand that stripped the skin from George's flesh, and sprinkled powder of salt and silver on the raw and red open wounds. The guide didn't often to get the opportunity to have so much fun; so the image of George's face contorted in pitiful pain was seared clearly in Olfaq's mind's eye. And even as he was being beaten to death by a creature of his own making, Olfaq couldn't help but have that fleeting notion that the face George made in pain, looked exactly like the face he made during murder.

Strike after strike, George didn't stop till the body of the tormentor began to crumble under his weight. And still being unsatisfied, the werewolf filled his lungs with the pack's battle lust then let off a warning to any of the other vampires with the brilliant idea to intrude.

Besides him, Josh had tried to join Hope; her whole being was stricken and unmoving. Even as she lay exposed, she did not let herself lift from where she stooped over her blood brother. The wolves around her became disoriented, and some began to howl. Josh, not as connected to the lust of the pack as they had been, took up the one large pet-trapping poles that had not been splintered, and swung it in a wide arch to clear space for the little alpha.

He chased off the vampires with silver weapons, and werewolf induced strength till Hope and Thom had space to mourn.

Seeing Josh fight and George kill, the other wolves took cue, and continued to unleash their supernatural strength out on the vampires. But they had lost coordination, and small skirmishes broke out between them. Chaos had overwhelmed the arena, for vampires and werewolves alike. And they were at a sudden impasse.

Sally, who had been by Hope's side since the attacks started focusing on her, stood equally shocked. She had the luxury to blank out the world, nothing could have harmed the ghost now; not after seeing what remained of the man she had come to know this past month. She wanted to be with Hope, wrapped around the 'wolves in a life-giving embrace. But she didn't have life anymore—and she couldn't touch—she couldn't even cry.

Around her the sounds of the fight became more feral and spiraled out of control; but the ghost suddenly couldn't hear it. It was as if everything except the loud sobs of the pre-teen became muted and irrelevant. They **were** muted and irrelevant.

Hope's hands seemed so small when cupped around Thom's face. And as he lay bleeding, she cried with pain hot on her breath.

Sally had let the shock settle, her hands on her heart and the gasp in her eyes. The werewolf was broken and battered, and limp. But the bones and the blood didn't touch his eyes, with his placid gaze, the pleasant twinkle of a smile. He had no anger. He showed no fear and no frustration. And morbidly, Sally thought:_ 'It's the first time I've seen him at peace.'_

"I didn't realize you'd be so beautiful."

Sally and Hope turned suddenly: the werewolf stood beside them with his eyes fixed on the ghost. Sally felt a tear well up behind her eyes and she cried out: "Thom."

The 'wolf smiled softly, putting his hands in his pockets as if he were looking for his lighter. He fiddled with the seam of his pocket for a shy minuet.

Somehow, his transformation to ghosthood had colored his cheeks, and the dark circles that Sally had associated with him were lifted, his black eyes bright and glittering. He looked around him as new 'wolves cleared them a space in the underground arena. Like a wild pack, they ripped, clawed and dusted the few vampires that dared stay in reach.

"I guess I could have picked a better place to die," he admitted.

Sally dared not step forward, even when he looked at her and beckoned her. He was again at ends with himself. As she lingered uncomfortably in the glowing hot aura of a new spirit in her presence, he restrained himself.

"Are you _okay_?" she asked timidly

"Yeah," and as if the question opened the floodgates, he filled the place between her and himself with two short steps and took her face into his hands. He poured his spirit into her, a kiss of a sort, but more. She felt her soul meet his, and melt into the warmth of his new and bright spirit—Even as she tried to make sense of his actions, Thom continued to pour his love through his space and hers. When he touched her she saw the whole world in his eyes—a fear and a pain had been converted to relief, and a lonely void was suddenly filled with the moon and her children.

Thom may have needed to breathe (or the ghost equivalent of breathing) for he stopped the embrace just long enough to tell her "I love you."

Now, Sally let her tears float through the spirit world. Their second kiss was much less needful—soft and sweet and it lifted like a balloon. Sally was the one to let their spirits untangle first for her eyes were fixed on the door over their shoulder.

_Not her door_.

She suddenly wished she hadn't seen it, for her gaze meant he knew it was behind him too. Of course, a ghost can feel his own door when it arrives, just like a ghost knows when a door doesn't belong to them. But some part of her still wanted him to touch her again, and she wanted him to miss his, the way he missed hers.

Thom's door was an intricately carved piece of wood—each etch in the material was deep and purposeful with twisted designs and the occasional blossomed flower. It was painted completely in a dry mat black, some peeling in places so that one could see wood—a latch handle and a dark silver frame beckoned the wolf.

_Come nearer._

He seemed surprised and relieved. Holding Sally's hand, he marveled, "I can't believe it." And then thoroughly shaken he scoffed, "After everything in my life, all of my unfinished business still unfinished. I was the **last** person to guess that my door would be… _waiting_ for me."

Sally tried not to be crestfallen. Despite her desire, she pushed him toward his door. "Don't keep it waiting," she brushed away her tear before he turned, only to remember it would have melted into the supernatural anyway.

"It's here because of you, Sally." He turned to her with an expression of aw unbridled with sincerity. "Just by being there, listening to me. I just needed to meet you. And you completed me…"

Sally let loose a bittersweet smile; _that's me, the finder of all doors not mine._ "I…" _was hoping that we could spend some more time together_, was what Sally wanted to say, but instead she cleared her throat and said, "I'm happy for you."

"It's almost too fast," Thom said, walking toward his door. "I just found you."

"You could always," she halted herself then continued, "you know," Sally struggled with a politically correct way to say, "**stay**?"

He did look sorry for a second, and he retreated back to her for another short kiss, "I've been here long enough. I am ready to move on. When you get to the other side, I'll be there."

"I know. Go get 'em." And Sally pushed the wolf's ghost toward the door again. "I was just dreaming."

Thom smiled at her again and she felt her heart smash on the floor at her feet. His happiness was devastatingly handsome and she wished he could have stayed with her. But instenad, he gripped tightly onto the latch of the black gateway. Through the crack of light, the wolf looked at his alpha, still on the floor rocking his broken body. He had never seen her cry this way before, and in that instant, Thom realized that Hope had true feelings for him. He was a part of her pack—_no conditions_.

"Thanks Hope."

And he slipped into his door, closing it gently behind him.

Realizing she was too late, Hope cried, "Wait, Thomas!" and she lifted herself up from his body. Then to the space where his door had been, she muttered, "I'll miss you…"

But the moment was over and a small silver pipe pressed through the little wolf's ribcage. Hope gasped as much as she could gasp, but it felt like her lungs filled with a thousand thin needles. She was dragged to her knees by her own weight, and her body slumped over that of her dead pack mate. Without a second of rest, Hettie pulled the pipe from her ribs and swung it hard against Hope's head. And the girl crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

"Holie shit!" Sally screamed.

ettie chuckled and wiped off a smear of wolf blood, the acid left a gray rash across her face. "Don't worry, **all** dogs go to heaven."

"You little monster!" Josh roared, rushing the vampire with his pole high above his head. He managed a good clean swing into Hettie's porcelain jaw and he watched as she angrily glared up at him with an unhinged mouth. She clicked it into place then dropped her fangs and sped to Josh's unprotected throat.

He swung again blindly, and by blind luck hit her from the air. She looked up with her doe eyes, and Josh did not hesitate to strike her again. But this time, she caught it, and he felt the shockwave of pain as the pole hit her hand. It felt as if Josh had hit a brick wall.

She ripped it from his grip and threw it across the arena. Before it landed, Josh found himself at her mercy, her nails digging into his throat. "You know, you're a monster, too."

As the air became scarce in Josh's lungs, so too did the werewolf power. And all of a sudden his own mortality became very vivid to him. New wolves were howling, the pain of the reformation gripped them as their spirit realized the alpha, and the reason they were transformed, was now listless and unable to support them. And in the shuddering demise of the demons, the vampires remaining saw opportunity.

The Old One saw opportunity. Her victory sealed with her lip-gloss smile.

"Hettie."

The girl jumped up. The fear lit her eyes. She knew when Snow was unhappy, simply by his voice. And he was unhappy.

"It's time to go home."

"But I want to –" '_play_' was what the girl meant to say. But her superior was not in the mood.

"Now."

"Spoil sport…" She knew a lost cause when she saw one, and she shrugged, putting Josh down, not even checking to see if he was breathing. She straightened her skirt then counted how many familiars she had left. Finally she stepped up to her elder and frowning deeply like a child disappointed said, "You didn't get them?"

"No," replied Snow, irritably. "Not this time." And he led the convoy to the doors, "But no matter. My brother's ineptness is just a minor set-back. There will be other opportunities if we are patient. Many of which can be of our making." And Snow stepped aside to let Aiden and Mitchell storm into the arena.

For a moment, they exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Then Snow just shrugged as if he couldn't be bothered, and he and Hettie and her bodyguards left the arena.

"Mitchell!" George tripped over himself trying to climb the broken bleachers.

And Mitchell scrambled down the debris to greet him. They Mitchell moved in for a hug and George reached over and hit him hard across the face, "**What took you so long**?"

"Jesus, George." Mitchell rubbed his jaw then closed in for that hug anyway, "I was worried."

"Don't leave me alone like that again!" and Aiden thought George would start crying from the way the werewolf's voice broke.

"Uh," Josh stumbled toward the reunion then waved dumbly at Aiden, as if the vampire could not see him. "What the **hell** just happened?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me," Aiden said, then he saw the bodies in the arena. "Oh. No."

The door behind them opened and Aiden spun around on his heel. Yumm had entered first, with Mother. And then the body guards. And the Lord of America smiled broadly and he seemed pretty entertained at the slaughter: it didn't seem to matter to him that most of the dead were vampires and wolves withered painfully out of their fur and into their skins—and for the first time since arriving, he showed a look of utter glee. But behind them, the old maid stepped in and instantly Aiden held his hands before him to bar her view. He wanted to charm her into seeing nothing in the arena. _Nothing._

"Alda, you're going to want to wait upstairs."

The old maid, just lifted the corner of her mouth crookedly. The half-smile half-snort coming out sadly from her old and weathered face. "Don't need to shield an old warrior, Aiden. Any wolf in a pack knows when one of their own passes on." She moved past the tall vampire her hand going through the motions of turning him away. "Especially when a wolf is an Alpha."

But that moment, Aiden took her weight on his arm, and he felt the old woman shaking. She rested on the railing to survey the dust and the blood and the two bodies of her family tangled in the middle._ Artistic,_ she thought, _a little red dot._

"Alda!" Sally swept forward and gave the woman a ghost hug. "I'm so **glad** you're alive."

And the old woman smiled softly, "Well one of us has to be."

And Sally wondered if she meant 'alive', or 'glad'.


	19. Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

**Chapter 19: Don't Say I Didn't Warn You**

Josh and George took turns doing what most of the others assumed was 'trying to break the world record for longest time spent in the shower'. By the time the two of them had finished emptying out Sally's tanks of hot water, Alda had already bought coffins, and booked the next flight from Logan to Alberquerque.

Even in the afternoon, the early October's wind felt like ice: biting and nipping at their doors like dogs. Mother took care of Hope and Thom's disposal, the vampire network glossing over the gory bits, and officially coining their death to a horrible motorcycle accident. George doubted anyone would be fooled, and the thought of the vampire cover-up just riled him up more.

"They're just saving their own skins," the werewolf grumbled, as Mother's right-hand associate loaded some of Josh's things into the back of the car. "She makes thi big deal about showing kindness but really she just was saving her own skin; making sure a couple of supernaturally murdered kids go home without so much as a police report."

"Uh, _yeah_," Mitchell replied, "The same thing goes on in Bristol too. Our worlds are not as different from theirs as you may think."

"Get me past the part again: where your whole goal of this trip was to steal something from a four-thousand year old native American."

Mitchell rolled his eyes at Annie, now that the crisis was over, he was back to being scrutinized for his vampire duties as if he were caught shoplifting chewing gum from the penny story. "It was not **my** idea: it was Snow."

"One doesn't just get up and say, 'Hey Mitchell, be a chap and rob my equally old brother of some artifacts for me please'."

He hid his face in shame, and only said, "You would if that One were Snow." He thought about the blood on his hands and said, "He has ways of being convincing."

"Are you _scared_ of him?" Annie laughed and Mitchell frowned deeply at her mirth. "You are! I thought _no one _could scare the **great** John Mitchell. Oh, I so would have liked to meet him!"

"I, for one, am glad you didn't," Mitchell countered roughly, "And for your sake, I hope neither of you ever will."

"There's always next time," George laughed, draping his arm over his broody flatmate. He said so to cheer the mood, but Mitchell couldn't help but continue to be thankful neither of them had lain eyes on the monster. If there was one thing to go right for him, it's that Snow didn't know his family's faces.

George's laugh died down when Alda approached them from the foyer.

"Well George, it's not too late to change your mind."

"Thank you but no thank you," and before she could bring it back up again, George said, "I'm sorry for your loss. I only sort of fought with her, but it was enough for me to know Hope was an amazing thing."

"George, any Evebringer who doesn't raise their child right will be responsible for the end of the world. If that happens—"

"Not now, Alda," Annie cut in. And the old woman looked ruefully at her, "Thom said you could be convinced to let him go."

She did not comment about this and instead continued her warning to the ghost. Mitchell led George to the door, hoping this would encourage the old wolf-woman to do the same.

"Listen to me Annie. Out there, George cannot have children. And whoever he brings into the world without a pack and without supervision would be the end of all things. If he lives with us, he can be protected in a community without being isolated and afraid of what he could do."

"Now that's not fair," Annie retorted unhappily. "You can't expect him to leave us to live with you. We've seen how you can raise a _what-cha-ma-_bringer. And I bet that didn't quite work out the way you planned."

Alda pursed her lips dangerously tight, but Annie was not going to let up. So Alda replied: "You think you can do this, Annie. But it's impossible to raise a first generation purebred in a big city. And it's almost just as difficult for a high ranking legacy. They'll be wild, hungry, restless—all of the time. And if at any moment, their self-control snaps, all the wolf energy will take over and lives will be destroyed. Even at regular packs, some of the deeply afflicted ones need to be put down."

Annie gave her a defiant look, "We're not talking about any child here. We're talking about a child of the most mild-mannered man on earth."

"But can you honestly promise me that any child will never experience fear, pain, or simply have a temper tantrum? Hope had to keep every emotion in check, or else she could turn wolves during a new moon, and control them. And we helped her there. Out in the world, there would be no one to show that kind of support- and that's no way to treat any child, cursed or not."

"You're **not** taking George." Annie stated, her mind set.

Alda knew a thing or two about women when they got this way, so she sighed and then put her bonnet back on. Gathering her bags and the long black portfolio, she turned to step out of the door. The British trinity waited anxiously at the vestibule as if they didn't trust her to simply leave, and the Americans waited patiently at the car. To Mitchell, then to George, then to Annie, Alda said sternly:

"Very well, Annie. I must trust you to take care of the matters should there be another Evebringer Legacy. But you must know, even if you do everything you can to raise the child properly, there is the possibility that it will bring on a horror worse than you could ever imagine. And if it does, **you** will be the one responsible for making the hard decisions."

"I will never kill a baby," the ghost hissed.

Alda hobbled down the stairs and replied sincerely, "I really hope you're right."

George could not close the door too soon, and when she finally disappeared down the road with Aiden and Josh, Annie instantly started shaking. Mitchell approached his love's side, and took her hand gently. And from that touch, she exploded:

"The nerve of that woman!" She said, outraged. And Mitchell folded her in his arms. She was starting to glow in fury. "Can you imagine?"

- - - - {_Elsewhere_}- - - -

At the airport, Alda had to separate from the rest of the trio to check in the coffins. There were questions, inspections, CDC red-tape, etc.. But the old wolf didn't mind; Aiden, Josh and Sally needed time to say goodbye before Josh joined Nora on the reserve for the baby's birth the next week. He would be gone for over a month. They were a sweet family; even Alda had to say they cared about each other. It almost made her sad to think Nora had stay away from them for so long.

She watched them from a distance when the vampire gave Josh travelling tips, and the ghost girl laughed a clean and pleasant laugh. When it was Josh's turn to stand at the ticketing counter, Alda was given the green light by the Transport Authority and she rolled her wheeled bag to the window. There she could wait for the trio in their sight, and they would be in hers.

Some distant airport announcement rang, and Alda remembered, pulled open the black portfolio, and took out her cell phone. It only took a few seconds before the intended recipient picked up the phone and exchanged greetings.

"Yes, it's done." Alda said obediently, "No, we didn't convince him to come. But he wouldn't have cooperated for long either way." After a respectfully pause, Alda sighed, "Yeah. Well **one** out of two is not bad."

Josh and Aiden lifted the bag to the weighing machine and Alda knew she didn't have a lot of time. "No, the mission was a success. Though you could have warned us before we went there. It may have saved us some grief."

"…"

"Of course you know, I just meant—"

"…"

"Yes Ma'Ma. I understand." And as if she had a last moment's thought, "Oh-" Alda reached into the portfolio, through the carefully protected human skin, and into the side pocket where she drew out the envelope addressed to _'the Great One'_: "and Mother wrote you a letter to accompany her gifts. Though she said she trusts you know what to do from here."


	20. Till Next Time

**Chapter 20: Till Next Time**

- - - -{Epilogue}- - - -

The coffins sat on the runway while the other luggage was loaded onto the belt. In the cold chill of the spreading evening, the technicians bustled quickly to load the baggage on the cargo floor pallets. It wasn't very often they got bodies sent by passenger flights. And they all avoided looking at the boxes as if not seeing them would make them disappear.

When, at last, there was nothing else to load, the technitians forced themselves to lift the bodies. The first one went in without a problem, cold with death and the October air. But when the second was loaded, the crew could not get their hands off of the wood fast enough. They sealed the cargo door and bustled onto the cargo trolly together as if they were bits of baggage themselves. And there they huddled in wait to load the next plane.

Then someone said: "Was it just me, or did that lighter coffin feel really warm?"

- - - -{Chronology}- - - -

_AN:_

_Thank you for reading! I had meant to sleep early tonight and ended up burning through the drafts of the last four chapters in a go. So much for a full night's rest on a week day. I do hope you enjoyed my first fic. I would love to hear comments or criticisms, I published a short comic run in my school newspaper so I can take a beating. =} _

_As my story is (now proven to be completely) AU. To make things a bit clearer, I am writing a short pertinent summary/timeline of events that happened to the two trinities that lead up to the story's beginning. Some of these will be overlapped facts that also happen the same way in the TV show. _

_Let me know if you want more stories!_

AMERICAN TRINITY:

Aiden attempts to elope with Sauren but fails when she decides to support her mother. Convinced he can save her, Aiden returns to the hotel only to find Mother willing to bequeath her power if her daughter can prove to be a heartless ruler. Unable to kill the man she loves, Sauren allows her own mother to take her life, and the vampire queen buries Aiden as punishment for breaking his exile and planning her assassination.

In an attempt to break his curse, Josh plans to murder his werewolf origin, Ray. Josh, waiting for Aiden's assistance in the woods, is confronted and overpowered by his creator. In a last ditch effort to save her boyfriend, Nora fires a bullet deep into Ray's shoulder with the intent to maim him so that Josh could take the killing blow. But the man turns and chases Nora through the woods. She flees to her car. Ray gives chase, and just as the original wolf approaches her, is hit by a semi-truck. He dies on impact, cutting off all hope that George and Nora would ever break their curse that way.

Sally, coming down from her addiction to possession and schizophrenia, discovers a way to manipulate purgatory - Being a reaper, though apparently a figment of her own making, had inadvertently taught her how to manipulate the vale between purgatory and the world. Through waves, (radio, water, electronics, etc.) She was able to make a gateway between herself and the world. There she helped return the ghosts she ripped, who still had desires and the notions of self improvement. But she herself could not bridge the gap without assistance. And though she can communicate with Nora and Josh through the radio in the living room, she felt obligated to wander the space finding souls that needed to be returned.

Three months later, Josh and Nora discover that Aiden was not dead but buried. And together they resolve to speak with Mother to strike some deal. Mother, unhappy at the intrusion agrees if Josh could perform as adequately for her 4000th birthyear (a birthday she celebrates all year), as he did on his first cage fight. She would consider releasing Aiden back into exile. And Josh agrees.

That night, Sally, looking for her room mate, haunts the hotel radios and chances upon a music box on Mother's dresser. The Vampire discovers that Sally, Josh and Aiden had been living together in harmony and is instantly struck with recognition. Still untrusting of Aiden, Mother releases him back into her employ, and makes it clear that his friends are expendable if her needs are not met. Josh is released after a public transformation, but without having to fight, and Mother 'finds a way' to bring Sally out of purgatory. (it's unclear how, but assume black magic is involved)

Under his release, Henry, promoted because of Aiden's treachery (Under a similar system that promoted Aiden and Bishop to leadership) became head of the city, and spokesperson of the next generation. Aiden, right-hand of Mother, offered him freedom on her behalf- but he refused it claiming he wants to be a vampire among vampires.

Sally, kept herself busy helping young ghosts find their doors. She had grown to believe that it was her duty to ward new spirits. But since her return from Purgatory, where she continuously searched for souls to return to the world, she had become more and more convinced that she would be left behind while everyone moved on; also her door. and she had become increasingly lonely and a little more desperate.

Half a year after the Haunt re-assembled. Bryn, a werewolf sister from the the McLean pack returned to Boston to find Josh and convince him that she was to be his mate. In jealousy, and the looming day-of-a-full-moon. Nora confronts her and nearly kills her. But Josh steps in and calms her long enough for Bryn to escape with her life just minutes before the moon rises and the wolves change. Still fueled by love and insecurity, Nora runs from Josh and Josh catches up with her. Knowing he has no control over his wolf, Nora is shocked and pleased to find Josh offering peace in his animal form.

That night Nora conceives again.

BRITISH TRINITY:

George and Mitchell lose Annie to Purgatory and heartbroken, they leave Bristol to live in the suburbs of Barry Island. Tormented by his still secret blood bath that is the Box Tunnel Massacre, Mitchell distances himself from George and begins to delve back into blood. He later follows a terminally ill patient into purgatory to find and retrieve Annie. There he learns and rejects the prophecy of the wolf-shaped bullet.

The Old Ones (who retreated to the Carpathian Mountains in Romania [Original canon puts them in Bolivia]) determine Mitchell and Daisy as the culprits of the Box Tunnel Massacres and deem him a threat to Vampires as a society. Mitchell soon falls prey to blackmail, and in an attempt to free himself from the guilt weighted on him from his re-lapse back into violence, Mitchell seeks out other alternatives to alleviate the constant reminders.

When Mitchell is at the height of desperation, Leader of the European brood of Old Ones, the Eminent Mr. Snow, descends from his place in Romania with a keen interest in Mitchell. In secret, Snow arranges an agreement with Mitchell which would result in freedom of the Old One's scrutiny. Under pressure from his own home clan, Mitchell agrees, and begins preparations for a visit to North America under the guise of the King of Bristol (a title that he relinquished prior to the events of the agreement).

Annie, being returned to the world by the vampire, soon finds herself developing feelings for him. Though it is obvious that he has started to accept and return her affection, his shame over his past actions prevent him from making bolder advances; neither have made the moves to make the next step. Currently, Annie and Mitchell, though in love, do not consider themselves a couple. Of course, George knows better than that.

After Annie's premature departure, and heartfelt return from Purgatory, George reinforced his sibling relationship with Annie. Meanwhile, his recently rekindled relationship with Nina had taken wing and through her support and love came to accept his responsibilities for her and their condition. He fervently works on a cure for his condition using research stolen from the CenSSA.

George, because of his reservations about werewolves social interactions, continues to insist that his transformations with Nina remain separate: despite this, George and Nina maintain a fierce relationship with each other regardless of form. George and Nina have yet to spend a werewolf night together. Though it is obvious that both wolves want to.

Upon Mitchell's attempt to leave town, George and Annie reveal their concern over his recent secrecy and his well being. Together convince him to allow them back into his life, and to follow him to America. Reluctantly, Mitchell agrees to this and rationalizes with himself that so long as he can see George and Annie, he can be sure they are safe.

_- - - - -{Summaries}- - - - - -_

_AN: oddly enough, I'm having trouble with a catching summary. I'm open to suggestions!_

Previously:

1) Vampires in Boston are hosting VIP Old Ones. And the entertainment, werewolf free-for-all. But when mass Wolf killings attract vampire hunters from the other side of the country, will Aiden be able to contain the inevitable mess? Especially when he has to make sure his guest, the eminent Snow, remains satisfied. US UK crossover.

2) When mass werewolf abductions attract vampire hunters from the other side of the country, Aiden gets a lot more than he asked for. Responsible for organizing the itenary for the fearsome Mr. Snow, can Aiden protect Josh and Sally while still satisfying Mother's requirements; and more importantly, is Mitchell going to help when George's life hangs in the balance? US UK crossover.


End file.
